For Every Action
by troxfot
Summary: A bounty hunter (original character) finds his way to the floating city of Columbia and gets tied up in the events that are much larger then him. He will need to decide between what is right and wrong, the high or the low road. A creative take on a fantastic game. T/M nothing more then what the game is in terms of content. Please rate and comment, it will be much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

"You are an incorrigible man Mr. Crenshaw, a very incorrigible man indeed."

"What can I say? It is a part of my charm." Alistair Crenshaw gave a sly smile to the Columbian woman sitting across from him. The summer breeze ruffled the flags looming above the two as they ate their food at an outdoor café. The date was July 6th, and the floating city of Columbia was buzzing with activity.

"Last night was… quite the night Mr. Crenshaw, if my father had any idea of the things I did with you, I suppose he would never let me out of the house again."

Crenshaw knew the woman's first name was Evelyn; the last name completely escaped him. He really had no interest in further pursuing the poor girl; he just was in the mood for a fling last night. She was with a group of friends and he managed to pick her out of the group. He did feel a sliver of shame for using her, but she could take it as a life lesson after all of this.

"Evelyn my dear, what we did last night was between you, the Lord, and I." Alistair gave a wink before taking a sip of his soda. This Columbians were religious fanatics, all of them. The fact these women even go out seems a little too loose for their standards, but Crenshaw sure wasn't complaining. He was raised Catholic, but the things these people did and said… ridiculous by any belief.

The two ate their food in silence, listening to the music playing in the streets. Children giggled and ran on the cobblestone roads playing games. Shopkeepers left their doors open, welcoming customers. The city was beautiful, having a monopoly on the sky market. Crenshaw checked his watch and turned to his companion. "Evelyn did you wish to go to the raffle? I know all of Columbia will be there,"

A look of excitement possessed the woman's face as she clapped her hands together. "Oh that would be wonderful! I really should freshen up though."

"Well how about this, you go back to your house and I'll meet you at the raffle, how does that sound?" Alistair replied. Evelyn agreed to the idea and got up, kissing Crenshaw on his cheek before walking off. Looking through his trouser pocket for currency, Crenshaw put several Silver Eagles on the table and left the outdoor café.

His hotel was just up the street; he had been staying there for what was going on three weeks. Crenshaw adjusted his fedora so the sun did not get in his eyes. Families passed him as they headed to the fair. July 6th was the date the floating city of Columbia succeeded from the United States of America, at least that is what Crenshaw read from the books he went through.

The doors to the hotel were already open. "The Founders' Lodge" was printed in bold lettering across the building. Crenshaw removed his hat promptly and gave the female receptionist a warm smile. "Good afternoon Mr. Crenshaw," She greeted him in a singsong voice.

"Good afternoon, sweetheart." He proceeded up the stairs to his room. After turning the key in the lock, Crenshaw opened the door and locked it behind him. He was in one of the largest rooms the hotel offered, had its own bathroom and everything.

He immediately removed his tie and threw it on the bed "Damn fashion, I don't know why everyone insists on full suits in the middle of July." Crenshaw walked over to the mirror in the bathroom and got a good look at himself. His short brown hair was slicked back with the part at the side; beard was kept clean and close to his face, brown eyes still as soul searing as ever. He took off his light grey suit jacket and exposed his shoulder holster.

"Can't get over this thing," Crenshaw removed the handgun from its holster and examined it, a M1911, brand new. He checked the magazine, ensuring it was full before putting it back in the holster. He carried two extra magazines on the opposite side of his body. He unbuttoned his vest and threw it at his bed. Crenshaw turned on the sink and splashed some water in his face. After drying off his face he looked again in the mirror. He ran his thumb down a scar on his face, coming down his left eye to his jawline.

Walking back to his bed he put his suit jacket back on and buttoned it up. His belongings were shoved in a duffel bag that was resting up against a dresser, never bothered to move in. Several wanted posters lay on top of the nightstand, none worth going through at the moment. Crenshaw checked himself one last time before leaving his room and locking the door behind him.

The sun was right above the city, bathing the area in its warmth. The fedora did a good job of blocking out the sun, he never did like having his senses dulled by external sources. The city was bustling as people waited for a passing float to finish its broadcast.

"I swear I've heard this all to much." Crenshaw thought to himself. The floats that were passing by were recounting the life of the 'glorious' Father Comstock, the Prophet of Columbia. "Worked on a farm, had a kid, founded the city, yes yes we know."

"Isn't it inspiring to hear what the Prophet has accomplished?" A young woman said to Alistair.

Crenshaw smiled and looked down at the woman, "Oh yes, he really is quite something," The bridge lowered and people started walking to the other side if the floating city. "Something indeed."

Vendors adorned the streets and were attempting to sell various wares. Crenshaw purchased an apple and continued to walk to the fair. He heard a quartet singing to his left, never heard the song before but it was pretty catchy. "Of course the song has to mention God, otherwise it would be absurd," Crenshaw snickered to himself.

Propaganda was on every wall, mentioning the superiority of the white race or Father Comstock. 'The Lamb' was mentioned as well. The lamb was to Jesus as Comstock was to God. The Lamb was supposed to take over for Comstock and rule the world or something. There was one poster that caught his attention before he headed into the fairgrounds. "The False Shepherd…"The poster depicted a demonic hand with the letters 'AD'. 'YOU SHALL KNOW HIM BY HIS MARK!'

"Well hope I don't accidently scar myself with letters from here on out." Alistair jogged up the stairs and walked into the fair ground. Despite being spacious, the area was crammed with bodies. Crenshaw had to pardon himself as he bumped into people as he passed by. There were games and stalls all around. Feats of mechanical wonderment and shooting galleries adorned the area.

The area that interested him the most was the display of 'Vigors'. "Gather around ladies and gentlemen, gather around! Have you ever wished to make the everyday woes of life go away? One swig, and feats of wonderment are at the tips of your fingers! You know our prophet is fair! You know our prophet is kind, and he asked, PERSONALLY asked, Mr. Jeremiah Fink to bring to you these amazing wonders!"

There were two men in devil costumes standing in front of the spokesperson. Out of nowhere, electricity sparked from the hands of one of the men. He pulled it back and forth between his hands as if it were an accordion of blue lightning. The other snapped his fingers and a floating ball of magma rotated in the palm of his hands. He spun it on his finger as if it were a small play thing. Alistair whistled to himself, "Well I'll be damned…" he scratched his beard. "If I could get my hands on one of those…"

"There you are!" Crenshaw had his thoughts broken as Evelyn grabbed his arm. "I've been looking for you!"

"My apologies. I've just been so intrigued with these… vigors." Crenshaw replied, still slightly in aw.

"They are quite spectacular aren't they?" Evelyn really did not seem interested in the conversation, still quite smitten with the man she was holding.

"Would…" Crenshaw went to speak but then felt something on him move out of place. He turned and saw a young man holding a wallet and attempting to escape through the crowd of people. "Dammit, get back here!" Crenshaw shoved patrons of the fair out of the way as he made his way closer to the pickpocket. When the man cleared the crowd he went off in a full sprint, he was fast, but Alistair was faster. He tackled the perpetrator to the ground and flipped him over to get a good look.

The man could barely be considered that, no more then eighteen or nineteen, dirt covered his face and his clothes were ripped. "Fuck you, I need this money!" The boy shouted, dropping the wallet momentarily to grab a small knife.

Crenshaw reacted quickly, forcing the knife to the ground and breaking the man's wrist. "What you need is some discipline." With one solid punch to the jaw the man was out like a light. Crenshaw stood up and quickly buttoned his suit jacket back up when he realized it had become undone in the scuffle. He dusted himself off and pocketed his wallet. He turned to face the crowd and was met by applause.

"Good show, sir! Good show indeed! You showed that scoundrel that there is no room for mercy for the weak and treacherous!" The Vigor spokesman had approached Alistair with an outstretched hand. He reluctantly shook it and gave a weak smile.

"Just reacted as anyone would," The police started to arrive and picked the unconscious pickpocket up. Without asking any questions they simply walked away, which Crenshaw thought was odd.

"My boy you embody the courage that all men should strive for! You know how to react! I would like to give you a complimentary vigor! You've earned, sport!" The spokesman removed a glass bottle from his suit coat and raised it high. "What do you say folks? Do you believe this man has earned it?" A roar of applause erupted as the onlookers agreed. The spokesman handed the bottle to Crenshaw; he examined it before putting it in his suit coat. It was a red bottle with an emblem of a grinning devil on it. There was a horned female on the cap blowing a fiery kiss.

"That's Devil's Kiss! No one will bother you anymore with that! And it requires a whole lot less effort then chasing a man down!" This man was a little too enthusiastic. Crenshaw nodded and thanked the man and the crowd before grabbing Evelyn and walking away.

"My Lord, Mr. Crenshaw, that was mighty brave of you!" The woman cried in excitement. She hung onto his arm tighter as they walked through the fair grounds. "Come on, we don't wish to miss the raffle! It is right this way!" Evelyn pulled his hand as they broke into a jog. Crenshaw couldn't help but laugh at the girl's gusto. They went up some stairs and arrived at a larger crowd centered on a stage with the curtains drawn.

There were multiple women with baskets filled with baseballs. Evelyn approached one of them with a grin on her face. "Two raffles numbers please," The woman nodded and dug into the basket. She gave Evelyn a ball, number 23.

"And for you sir, number sixty-nine." The basket carrier gave Crenshaw a wink as he accepted the ball. Crenshaw smiled at the small innuendo and thanked the woman.

"How much do I owe you?"

The basket carrier and Evelyn giggled at this seemingly stupid question. "Silly, you don't have to pay for the raffle."

"You'll have to excuse him, he's new around here," Evelyn said as she patted Crenshaw's arm. The two walked away and got a space on a ledge towards the back of the crowd. "I'm so glad I get to spend your first raffle with you! It really is quite exciting." Evelyn looked so pleased with herself

"Well I'm glad to have such a great guide," Crenshaw replied. The girl was sweet, but he was growing tired of this. He felt bad for leading her on but he really was not interested.

"One minute before the raffle starts! One minute!" The announcer stated in the same enthusiastic tone that everyone in this city seemed to share. He had a top hat and a curled moustache, wearing a very nice custom tailored three-piece suit.

"Is there anyone around here that isn't dressed to the nines?" Alistair asked. Despite having a suit on himself, he felt underdressed for such a casual occasion because he didn't have a vest and tie on. The heat was prominent from the rays the sun provided. He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief before putting it away.

"We pride ourselves on our clothing, appearance is everything. Especially when the Lord may pass judgment on us at any passing moment." Evelyn informed him calmly.

"The God I always envisioned wore a white robe not a suit…" It appears these people did not understand the humble simplicity that most religions were supposed to dictate.

"Hey mister! Mister over here!" One of the raffle girls called out a passing patron. The man looked at her and they started to have a conversation, as she handed him a ball. This man was different, like he didn't belong, similar to Crenshaw. He was a hardened man, you could tell by his face. Late thirties, he openly wore an empty shoulder holster outside of his vest, not being very inconspicuous with that. His brown hair was worn similar to Crenshaw's, black pinstripe suit pants and a red cloth tied around his neck like a tie.

"Peculiar sort, definitely out of his element." Alistair thought to himself.

Music started playing from the band and everyone started to cheer. The raffle was beginning and people acted like their favorite team just won the World Series.

"Are we all ready for the raffle? Do you think you have the winning number? May the luck of the Founders' be with you! Without further ado let us pull the number." The announcer exclaimed. A blonde with a basket strutted on stage, waving to the crowd. The men hollered and Crenshaw let out a small whistle.

"Bring out the bowl! Now isn't this just the most attractive young white girl you ever did see?" The announcer addressed the crowd. Crenshaw was momentarily taken aback from the bluntness of the comment. He was raised in the city, he knew what racism was like, but it still caught him off guard. The blonde handed the spokesman a ball and the man looked at it.

"And the winning number is… seventy-seven!"

"Over here! Over here! It's him!" One of the basket carriers cried out and pointed to the hardened man who had just arrived. The Man looked down the ball in his hand and seemed to scoff in amusement.

"We have our winner! How about we show him his prize ladies and gents?" The crowd cheered as a response. The curtains were drawn and Alistair's eyes grew wide. A tied up interracial couple were carted forward slowly, a white male and black female. Cardboard monkeys with big lips surrounded the stage along with various jungle-like objects. A mocking version of 'Here comes the Bride' played aloud and the crowd chanted along. The couple begged for sympathy, Crenshaw felt horrible.

"My boy, you get the first shot! Take advantage of it!" The spokesman directed towards the winner. The Man looked down at his ball with a look of disgust on his face. "Looks like we have a shy one here folks!" The crowd got a brief chuckle out of it as they cheered the winner on.

The Man said something that Crenshaw couldn't here from his position and winded back to throw the ball, but the direction was not towards the couple, but rather the man on stage. "Man has a pair…" Alistair thought to himself. However, before the Man could release the ball two police officers grabbed him by the arms.

"Wait. It's him!" One officer said aloud so that the crowd could hear.

The announcer drew closer to the apprehended man and looked at his hand. "Now where'd you get that brand boy? You know that makes you the backstabbin', snake in the grass, False Shepherd?" The crowd gasped and murmured to each other in surprise. Evelyn grabbed Crenshaw's hand tighter.

"We don't want no False Shepherd in our flock now do we? Boys, show him what we have in store for him!" One of the officers withdrew an object that covered his arm; there was a rotating pinwheel like blade on the end. Crenshaw had seen these before; these were sky-hooks, devices that allowed people to travel on the skylines that were found all over the city.

He slowly approached the Man closer with the blade. "Ah shit," Crenshaw thought to himself, he stood up, from his spot, ready to intervene. In a fluid motion, the Man threw his raffle ball up in the air. Both of the officers looked up, and the man used this to his advantage. He grabbed the officer to his right by the neck and rammed him into the spinning blade. The crowd shrieked in horror as blood splattered from the officer's torn face. The remaining officer let go his sky-hook with a look of astonishment on his face.

The Man quickly picked up the dropped weapon and swung it at the remaining officer as the crowd dispersed with shrill cries. "Mr. Crenshaw we must get out of here!" Evelyn cried, obviously shaken by the events.

"Get out of here dear, I want to make sure everyone escapes safely. I'll meet you when this has blown over." Crenshaw kissed her and pushed her out of harms way. Evelyn disappeared into the crowd of people as they left the grounds. Three more cops ran into the small stage area and launched themselves at the Man.

Despite being outnumbered the Man held his own, maiming each of the officers that attacked him. He could obviously handle himself. Crenshaw thought this was good, there would be overall less attention on him as long as this Man was stirring up trouble, and he needed him to be alive. A police officer attempted to sneak up on the Man from behind. He never would have noticed because he was trying to dispatch of two other cops.

Crenshaw reacted quickly, he came up behind the police officer and put him in a firm headlock and dragged him back towards some cover. He snapped the officer's neck with ease and threw his body in some bushes. By this time the Man had killed the remaining officers and had seen Crenshaw. He looked at him in the eye and ran up a set of stairs without so much as a nod.

"Well he lacks the common decency to say thank you." Alistair quipped to himself. He did not take out his handgun quite yet because no one had noticed him. He saw the Man plowing through a new group of police officers, both of the combatants now armed with handguns. He saw the Man swirl a green aura in his left hand. He shot it towards and machine that was firing at him. All of a sudden the machine had a green glow and turned on the policing officers and riddled them with machine gun fire.

"That must be a vigor…" Crenshaw thought to himself. He remembered the Devil's Kiss he had just been given. He withdrew it from his suit jacket and examined it. "Well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Crenshaw threw the top of the bottle to the ground and chugged the entire bottle down. It tasted like the smell of gasoline; he felt a burning in his throat like he drank whiskey.

He felt a fiery pain in his hands and he looked at them. He shouted as his hands caught on fire, his fingers being burned to the bone. The flame went up as high as his forearm. He felt the burning and smelled his skin boiling. Then as quick as it started, his hands extinguished and the skin covered his body again.

"Holy hell…" Crenshaw bent over and coughed heavily. "What the hell did that do to me?" He looked at his hand and concentrated hard, thinking about fire. A ball of magma began to float in his hand and Crenshaw began to laugh. This was amazing.

Then a voice from behind caught him off guard. "Nice parlor trick, I'll show you mine." Before he had the opportunity to turn around, a black sack was put over his head. "I'll make you disappear." The last thing Alistair felt was a blow to the head.


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II: Guests for Dinner

"Sir, we have the man you wished to have us apprehend." Crenshaw's head was pounding, he had blacked out, he didn't know for how long. He let some men get the jump on him and bash his head with God only knows what, felt like the butt of a pistol. The blood ran down his forehead and into his mouth. He was handcuffed and being dragged through a hallway.

"Please, bring him to the table that has been prepared." The voice was oddly soothing, charismatic. It was a male voice, older by the sounds of it.

"Prepared for what? I didn't feel like getting tortured today." Crenshaw thought to himself. He kept his body limp, careful not to give any indication of being awake.

Crenshaw was seated in a chair and the handcuffs were released from behind him. He expected to be strapped to the chair but he was not. The bag was removed from his head and Crenshaw opened his eyes. The scene was the last thing he was expecting. A long dining table had been set up with a feast. Foods of all kinds were placed in front of him, reminded Crenshaw of the Thanksgiving feasts he always heard about.

"Ah Mr. Crenshaw, so you are awake. Allow me to welcome you, this has all been set up for you." Alistair turned to the source of the voice. It was the same inviting voice that was speaking before. It was a figure who was slightly taller then he. The man had a long white beard that looked similar to Santa Claus. His face looked stern, but at the same time looked as if he would greet you as if you were an old friend.

"You must be the Prophet." Crenshaw shot at him. He rubbed his wrists where the handcuffs had been placed. "Is this how you usually greet your guests?"

"Yes that is correct my son, I am Zachary Hale Comstock. I do apologize for the way my officers treated you, they felt as if you were a danger to Columbia and acted as such. I assure you, I see you as a valuable asset and much less of a threat. Before I get into that, allow me to get you cleaned up." As soon as the Prophet spoke, a nurse of walked in and began tending to Crenshaw. She wiped the blood from his face with a soaked rag and put some alcohol on his forehead to clean the wound. Before leaving she put a bandage on the cut and left promptly.

"Please eat my son, as I said it is all for you." Crenshaw looked at the food hesitantly, not sure what to make of it. "I assure you, nothing has been tampered with. You have my word as a Holy Man." Comstock sat down at the seat across from him and poured himself a glass of wine.

Crenshaw took a sip of wine before picking up a fork and knife. He dug quickly into a chicken breast "So Comstock," Alistair said in between bites, "How is it you know who I am? I'm a nobody, especially when it comes to a _holy_ prophet such as yourself."

Comstock let out a kind laugh and took another sip of his wine. "My son you are not insignificant, especially in the eyes of the Lord. I have been watching you for quite some time, ever since you arrived in the city of Columbia three weeks ago."

Crenshaw stopped eating his food and looked up at Comstock. "So what exactly is it that makes me so special, I'm just your typical bounty hunter taking a nice vacation in a floating city."

Comstock stood up and began walking around, glass of wine in his hand. "Alistair my son, it is your history that interests me. What makes you who you are," He looked away as if recalling information.

"Alistair William Crenshaw. Five feet, eleven inches. One hundred and seventy seven pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes. Born of Scottish immigrant parents in the United States in June, the year of our Lord 1884. Raised in the city of Chicago. At the age of eighteen you enlisted in the United States Army." Comstock turned and looked directly at Crenshaw. "You know, I too served. 7th Calvary, Wounded Knee."

"Nasty bit of business, Wounded Knee." Crenshaw said as he bit into an apple.

"Yes indeed. However you served over seas, the Moro Rebellion in the Philippines. You did good work, putting those Muslims in their place. If they had seen the works of the Lord they could have avoided their slaughter. You attained the rank of Sergeant, before being discharged. You were a victim of an ill placed explosion. The things you had seen changed who you were though, besides the injury, the military said you were 'No longer fit for combat'." Comstock sat down next to Alistair. "But they know nothing of you truly do they? You are fit for combat."

"You could say that, yes." Alistair replied matter of factly.

"You could not work for a government organization because they labeled you as a psychopath. You found work in the bounty hunting business. You traveled the country killing the scum of the Earth, truly noble work."

"Glad you think so."

"Then, the very fact you managed to find my fair city is another reason you interest me. It is an impressive task. However, when famed bounty hunters appear in your city it is often a bad omen. So why, Mr. Crenshaw are you in Columbia?"

Crenshaw pushed his plate out of the way and poured himself more wine. He crossed his legs and took a sip of the red alcohol. "Like I said I'm on vacation. You appear to know all about me, so that should be the least difficult question to answer"

"Crenshaw do you take me for a fool?" Comstock's demeanor had changed in the slightest.

"Comstock do you take me for a liar?" Crenshaw leaned forward and stared the Prophet in the eye. "You obviously want me for something, so spit it out."

Comstock sighed at the bounty hunter's impatience. "I'm sure you know of the arrival of the False Shepherd, you were there when he killed several of my officers."

"This is true. Who is exactly is the 'False Shepherd' by the way?" Crenshaw said in a somewhat mocking tone.

"I have a file compiled for you already." Comstock slid a folder to Alistair. He picked it up and opened it immediately. Comstock was right, Crenshaw was there for the arrival. The picture was of the man who won the raffle. The one who killed all of the police officers. The one he helped.

"Is this a Pinkerton file or is this guy a Pinkerton?" Crenshaw asked, noticing the symbol on the papers.

"Booker Dewitt is a Pinkerton agent. He is also a drunk and a coward."

"All of the run ins I've had with Pinkertons, none of them have been cowards, maybe a little drink crazy but that's common." The fact this man was a Pinkerton only complicated things; it would not be an easy kill. The file said this man was a veteran of the Army as well, didn't say where he served. "Reason you want him dead? Because I don't just kill people for the hell of it, I'm not a hit man."

"You will be rewarded handsomely for this job, you do not need a reason why. All you need to know is that he is stealing something very important from me. You will not receive any help from the officers of Columbia; to them you are just another person. If you kill any in order to get to DeWitt that is to your discretion just remember they will react. Do not attempt to get out of our deal Mr. Crenshaw, I will have you killed otherwise, you can have my word on that."

Crenshaw looked at Comstock sternly. "Threatening me? You have some gall Prophet." Alistair jabbed a finger in Comstock's face. "Nobody threatens my life, you hear me?"

"Now, now Mr. Crenshaw do not let that famous anger of yours get unshackled. We have many innocent families in Columbia, I will not turn you loose if you may harm them." The tone in his voice was that of a person who held all the cards.

Alistair's face lost its color and a bead of sweat ran down his neck. Did he know? How did he know? Comstock leaned close and looked him in the eyes. "I know all Crenshaw, for I am the Prophet. Your past cannot stay hidden; your sins will not be forgiven." He walked away and faced his back to the bounty hunter.

Crenshaw moved slowly and reached for his shoulder holster. It was empty, of course, should have expected it. He went down for the revolver he kept above his shoe under his pant leg. It was still there, but he would have to grab it quickly.

"I will give you back your handgun of course, but you will not find any ammunition for it in Columbia." Comstock turned around and Alistair made it appear as if he was just adjusting his trouser leg.

"I would appreciate that back, thank you."

"If you would like any other kind of weapons you will simply have to scavenge. I don't want you walking around with guns brandished in my city. However, I do have a gift for you that will hopefully make you job easier." A man walked out with a Vigor jar on a platter. "It is an experimental Vigor from Fink, not even in full production. We simply call it 'Sonic Boom'."

Crenshaw accepted the vigor and examined it. It really was an experimental Vigor; it didn't have an emblem or fancy lid either. The liquid inside was crystal like, refracting light off of the liquid itself. Crenshaw opened up the bottle and swirled it around. "Cheers," he motioned to Comstock and downed the bottle.

The liquid went down smoothly, it was light to drink. The feeling that came with Devil's Kiss occurred again as he hunched over and began to grunt. He coughed hard and looked at his hands. A thick, white aura began to emit from his hands. Food on the table began to rattle on the table; a vase fell over and shattered on the ground. Then as soon as the feeling come about, it disappeared. Crenshaw let out an exasperated breath and looked to Comstock.

"I'm glad the Vigor didn't kill you."

"Yea so am I." He considered trying to escape. Or would he be able to kill Comstock right here? He had two vigors, two he has never used of course, but two vigors nevertheless. He knows how to handle himself in a fight. Judging from when he woke up he knew the dining area wasn't far from the entrance. The only variable was the amount of guards.

Before he could make a decision a slew of guards entered the room. "I must be off," Comstock said. "I will not question your methods on this job Mr. Crenshaw. You can attempt to earn DeWitt's trust or kill him outright. Makes no difference to me, I just want the job complete." One of the guards handed Crenshaw his M1911 and two clips. After Crenshaw put it in the holster the guards grabbed him by the arms and handcuffed him again.

"Excuse the officers, they will escort you from the area." Comstock approached Alistair and looked him in the eye. "Remember our deal Mr. Crenshaw, and the consequences of failing me."

"Noted." A sack was placed on Crenshaw's head and he heard Comstock walked away and mention something about preparing his air ship. The officers began to lead Crenshaw out of the building. Before he knew it he was on some sort of flying ship. One guard had him by the handcuffs, standing directly behind him. Judging from the conversation, there were two other guards.

Despite having most noise muffled from the sack, Crenshaw heard one of the officers talking about a 'disposal'. Letting them finish their conversation, he put two and two together to establish that they were planning on killing him. It really didn't surprise him, he had no reason to trust Comstock and this only confirmed it. The police were treating him like another criminal.

He wasn't planning on dying here.

Crenshaw concentrated on the heat he knew he had in his body. He centered in on his head, hoping this would work. The sack around his head burst into flames. He then used the rest of Devil's kiss on his hands, causing the handcuffs to heat up to extreme temperatures. The guard holding him yelped as his hands were burnt. The handcuffs broke when Crenshaw tugged with ease. He ripped the flaming bag off his head and threw it at the two guards in front of him.

"Bastard had Devil's Kiss! No one told us that!"

The guard behind him shook his hand to try and cool it off. He looked at Crenshaw and readied a sky-hook, but it was too late. The bounty hunter took out his handgun and pressed it to the forehead of the officer. With a single shot, a pallet of brains painted the wall of the floating contraption. Alistair quickly readied his Devil's Kiss and threw it towards the remaining pair. They instantly burst into flames on impact. Their screams were of pure anguish as the flames enveloped their bodies.

Concentrating once again, the bounty hunter thought of the Sonic Boom, he had no idea what it would do but the name gave him a good idea. Holding his left hand flat out, a giant wave emitted from the palm of his hand. The two men were thrown from the flying ship immediately; their screams could still be heard as they fell to their deaths.

"Well wasn't that just the…" Crenshaw suddenly felt weak, the Vigors took a lot out of him. He was sure there was some way to replenish them; he would have to search later. He turned around and picked up the dead police officer's skyhook, he was sure this would come in handy later.

Alistair went to the helm of the ship, luckily the controls were fairly simple. "I have to get this thing moving. Gotta think about things, and find DeWitt." Crenshaw took flew the ship back to the main section of Columbia. He had a new job, but was this one he would regret going through with?


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III: Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

"This is not how I wanted a potential vacation to go." Alistair Crenshaw said aloud to himself. He was pacing the boardwalk at Battleship Bay, Colmbia's artificial beach. He had purchased new clothes in the event that people had seen him at the raffle. He was wearing light blue slacks with a matching vest. He had a white button down with thin red stripes along with a black tie loosely hanging around his neck. He even shaved his face after he realized he singed his facial hair with Devil's Kiss. The only reason he kept the light grey suit jacket was because he was keeping his handgun concealed. He had a black flat cap pulled over his eyes. The sun was slowly lowering in the sky, creating an orange tint in the once blue sky.

Taking a drag of a cigarette he walked past a police search, making sure not to make eye contact. All of his papers were in order, but he wasn't taking any chances. Comstock may have had him flagged or something. The reason he came outside was because he thought he heard a ruckus, but he shook it off because everything appeared normal. He made his way to the second story balcony and looked down at the beach. He flicked some ashes from the cigarette and put it back in his mouth. His mind was racing with what has happened in just a few hours.

Lighthearted music filled the air; he looked for he source of it, hoping a band would change his mood. As he scanned the members of the dancing crowd, Alistair's heart skipped a beat. "My God, she's beautiful." This woman was different, different then any girl he had seen in Columbia thus far. Her long brunette hair was tied back with a bow. She wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into a long skirt that hit a pair of boots she was wearing. She had a blue neckerchief draped from her neck. Despite the distance, Crenshaw could see her piercing blue eyes.

Alistair threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. He felt the need to speak to this dancing woman; everything else had been placed on the back burner. Her beauty had captured him, she reminded him of… of Her.

"It appears the bounty hunter has a new target."

"This one has a greater value then he could know though."

"Jesus Christ!" Crenshaw spun around and faced two individuals he had never met before. A male and a female, twins by the look of it. Both were wearing beige suit jackets with light brown vests, a white shirt and a green tie. The woman was wearing a rust colored dress bottom and the man wore matching slacks. Both of their orange hairstyles were kept fashionable. The tone of their voice was mocking in some ways.

Crenshaw didn't know how to react to the two individuals. "Do I know the two of you?"

The man and woman looked at each other, as if communicating before speaking aloud. "Who we are is of no real concern." Started the man.

"However, who you are is the real question, or rather what you choose to do." Finished the female.

Alistair sighed; they were speaking in vague riddles. Was this some kind of joke? The whole twin finishing sentences things was not making him any happier. "Well then, can I help you with something?"

"How polite. Asking if he can help us. It is less of a matter of what you can do for us."

"And more of what we can do for you," added the male. The female held up a bottle with an elongated neck containing a bright yellow liquid in it. "You may find this useful.

"Especially in the event of you being shot." The female said coyly.

Crenshaw picked up the bottle, looked at it and then back at the couple. "You can trust us Mr. Crenshaw, don't worry. Having you dead serves us no purpose in the long run," The man said. He appeared a bit more interested and sincere then his female counterpart.

"Well I do have a reputation for being shot at." He sighed and uncorked the bottle. "Taking drinks from strangers… again." Crenshaw drank everything in the bottle and immediately regretted the decision. "God, this tastes like crap."

"Do you suppose he knows what that tastes like?" The female commented to the male.

Before Crenshaw could make a comment, he heard a noise similar to glass breaking. He looked around for the source of the shattering, but there was nothing of the sort. He thought he drank a Vigor but his hands made no outrageous changes. He did feel stronger though. "Well, what was that all about?"

"Two for two."

"Glad it didn't kill him. That is a magnetic-repulsive field in a bottle."

"So… it will deflect bullets?" Crenshaw asked.

"He's a quick one isn't he?"

"Quite."

"It will protect you until it breaks. It will regenerate when you are done being a sponge for bullets."

Crenshaw couldn't help but laugh. Seemed a little too good to be true. He turned around and looked down at the beach. The girl was still there; maybe he could still speak with her. He went to face the two in order to thank them, but they disappeared. "Well I guess a thank you wasn't in order." He ignored the fact that they somehow vanished in thin air and proceeded to jog down the stairs. He passed a group of women in bathing suits as he ran down.

"Hm ladies will you look at him, it's a crime someone doesn't get him a nice pair of trunks." The group giggled and Alistair shot a smile at them. Normally he'd be polite and have a small chat, but he was a man on a mission. The dancing woman was at the end of a pier in a group. The band's music was up beat and peppy. Crenshaw couldn't help but stare for a couple seconds as the girl danced, so carefree, so happy. He finally got a hold of himself and approached the girl. She was now by herself in the middle of a circle, the on goers clapped as she danced by herself.

"Excuse me Miss, but would I have this dance?" Alistair asked as he approached the girl. He removed his cap and bowed politely. The girl was grinning ear-to-ear, and cheerily responded.

"Of course! That would be lovely!" Crenshaw extended his hand and took hers. He placed his hand on her waist and proceeded to lead in the upbeat dance. The other members of the group took this as an invitation to dance again and found partners. Despite the music and movement, Alistair felt as if it were only the female and he together. He knew this was stupid; he gave up on this romantic crap long ago. Just something about her made it different. "So, what can I call you?" The woman asked innocently.

"How rude of me, Alistair Crenshaw at your service, Miss. And does the beautiful woman have a name?"

The girl smiled, blushing in the slightest and faced Crenshaw. "Elizabeth, you can call me Elizabeth."

"A gorgeous name if I may say, Elizabeth."

"Well thank you, it is the only name I've known. I'll take it gladly." She spoke with such enthusiasm, along with certain intelligence behind her voice. They continued to dance for what seemed like hours, probably only minutes. The two made small talk about everything from novels and music to Columbia. She was fascinated with the city, but the way she spoke of it made it seem as if she had lived here her entire life. However, the things she knew otherwise, such as literature and the sciences made her much more then just the average girl from Columbia.

"Excuse me, Miss? Can you- just for one second-," A voice from the edge of the crowd, as if someone was trying to make their way in. The two paid no attention as they continued to dance, until a figure placed their hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "Elizabeth."

"Mr. DeWitt! Isn't this wonderful? Come dance with us!" Elizabeth exclaimed, holding her hands out as if the man would join in the dance. It was definitely the same person Crenshaw helped earlier. DeWitt had not noticed him yet. The two obviously knew each other, but Alistair did not know how.

"I don't dance. C'mon lets go," His voice was reluctant, not hiding the fact he didn't want to be there.

"Come on DeWitt, give the girl a dance," Crenshaw stepped forward to make his presence known, a grin on his face. DeWitt cocked his head in the slightest, attempting to remember the man who had approached him. His eyes opened further when it hit him.

"You're the one from earlier today!" He pointed a finger in Alistair's direction.

"Correct, and you're welcome by the way." Crenshaw calmly replied.

Elizabeth looked back and forth between the two men. "Mr. DeWitt, you and Mr. Crenshaw know each other?" She asked, appearing noticeably confused by the situation.

DeWitt turned to the girl but did not answer right away; he was contemplating what to say. He turned back to look Crenshaw in the eyes. "We met briefly at the fair."

"The fact he didn't say anything actually tells most of the story." Crenshaw thought to himself. "Most people would have said I killed that police officer if they had witnessed it like he did. Since DeWitt didn't, that probably means the girl isn't aware he's a killer as well. This may work out in my favor."

"Oh how was the fair?" Elizabeth jumped at the idea of it. Alistair turned and smiled at her. She was naïve, intelligent but naïve. She had a child-like sense about her.

"It was bloody good fun." Crenshaw said to her and then looked back at DeWitt. The air between the two men was tense, neither wished to make the first move. All DeWitt had on him was a pistol in his shoulder holster. That was all that was visual anyway. Alistair was sure he had several Vigors, and he only knew of the green Possession one. A straight up fight would be stupid, especially in this crowd.

When the three were silent for several seconds, DeWitt spoke first. "Lets get going Elizabeth."

The girl was taken aback for a second, she seemed to laugh. "But Mr. DeWitt, what could be better then this?"

The man threw the idea around in his head, and then his eyes drew past her, something in the sky. "Oh I don't know, how bout Paris?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

The girl hunched over slightly, she was obviously in love with the idea. Crenshaw was confused by the whole notion, what was Booker getting at? "P-Paris? I don't understand? How would we get there?" The girl was in joyous disbelief.

"Well that's where that airship is going." DeWitt pointed to a spot behind Crenshaw and Elizabeth. The two turned, he was right, there was definitely an airship. It read 'The First Lady' in bolded cursive letters. A picture of Lady Comstock, the Prophet's deceased wife, was plastered on the side of the massive blimp. "But if you wanna stay around here and dance, you're more then…"

"No, no! Let's go! C'mon lets go right now!" Elizabeth grabbed DeWitt's arm and turned him around to start leading him down the pier.

"Crafty bastard, can't let them get away." Crenshaw muttered to himself. He knew for a fact the airship wouldn't go to Paris, Booker was just telling her what she wanted to hear. He was a liar, two could play that game. He would not let Elizabeth and DeWitt leave. "I'll be joining you two," Crenshaw said so the pair could here him.

"You are?" Elizabeth exclaimed excitedly.

"You are?" Booker was nowhere as happy. He shot Crenshaw a dirty look. Alistair strolled towards them and leaned to DeWitt.

"I'll explain." He replied under his breath. DeWitt kept looking at him strangely as the three walked along the beach. The girl was skipping and spinning in the sand.

"Oh can you smell that?" I've never smelled anything like that before!" She was obviously in a state of fascination. Crenshaw was wondering who she exactly was, and why she was with DeWitt.

"Beaches I know don't smell much like that." DeWitt replied.

"City man, makes sense." Crenshaw said softly so only Booker could hear. He looked surprised and Crenshaw simply smiled back at him. City beaches never really smelled that great, had to be a big city. Most likely New York.

"You're going to start explaining yourself." DeWitt said to Crenshaw. The two were walking side by side, talking under their breath but maintaining a happy look in the event Elizabeth turned around.

This is when lying comes in handy. "I'm a bounty hunter of sorts. Right now I'm more of a hired gun. I've been paid to help you on your mission." Crenshaw was lying through his teeth. He had no clue what DeWitt was trying to accomplish or why this girl was here, but he would find out.

DeWitt turned to him and raised an eyebrow. They followed Elizabeth past a turnstile into a store. "Bull shit, there is no way anyone was paid to help me."

"Better believe it, old sport." Crenshaw replied, hands in his pockets. He examined the store, more of a propaganda warehouse. There were buckets filled with toys and fireworks. Various signs of the Prophet were lined up in the shop. Elizabeth approached one of them, holding her hands together. The poster had Comstock's head with a halo around his head. Boldly saying 'FATHER COMSTOCK OUR PROPHET'.

"Comstock, I've read about him." Her voice was calm, quiet. "They say he can see the future."

Booker approached the poster beside Elizabeth. "Give a man a little power, he falls in all kinds of love with himself." DeWitt was no dummy; he spoke as if it were from experience.

"I don't like his look." Elizabeth was hesitant around the picture, as if it knew she was talking about it.

The shop keeper surprised the three when he opened up his mouth to speak. "Do you dislike the look of the Prophet? Or his gaze?" This troubled Elizabeth; Crenshaw could see it in her eyes.

"A man's gaze often says a lot more then his appearance." Alistair stated, trying to get the owner's attention off the girl. He heard Elizabeth ask DeWitt if they could leave, and he agreed. Crenshaw followed the two out, but kept his eye on the owner.

"Did you know that Battleship Bay was built in only six months? They say the water is actually collected rain," Elizabeth was already back to her peppy carefree mood, obviously putting the shop keeper's comments behind her.

"Well aren't you just a cornucopia of knowledge?" Joked Alistair. The girl giggled and turned to him.

"Well when all you have to do is read you pick up on a lot." So where would one be if all they had to do was read? Crenshaw needed more information, but he didn't want to hit her with a barrage of questions quite yet.

Elizabeth continued to skip ahead of the two men. The boardwalk was full of people and vending stalls. She examined every little thing; she definitely was taking in the experience. Crenshaw leaned over to DeWitt. "Who exactly is the girl, DeWitt? You don't seem like the type to take in a charity case."

DeWitt turned to the bounty hunter and raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know? If you're really supposed to be helping me I think you would know."

"The people who hired me said it was on a need to know basis. They simply gave me an up front payment and instructed me to help you out."

Booker crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "And who exactly was it that hired you, Crenshaw?"

Time to be spontaneous. Before he could respond, Alistair was called over by Elizabeth. The bounty hunter and the Pinkerton looked over to the girl. Standing before her were the redheaded twins from earlier, except now they were holding pillows with jewelry boxes on them. "These two again? How do…never mind." Booker grunted.

"You wanted to know who hired me? They were the ones." Alistair jabbed a finger in the twins' direction as the two men walked over to Elizabeth. DeWitt didn't comment on the conversation any further, seemingly accepting the bounty hunter's response.

"The bird?" Asked the Man.

"Or the cage?" Said the Lady.

"Or perhaps the bird?"

"Nothing beats the cage." Alistair looked at the two, and put his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. The girl spun around and extended both of the boxes she was holding. Both contained a brooch of some sort. Both had silver outlines on the oval shapes with a dark blue color in the center. The only difference was the actual object in the oval. One was a dark cage, while another was a white bird.

"Look at these, they're amazing! Which one do you like more? This one… or this? The bird is beautiful, and the cage is somber, but there's really something special about it. I just can't decide"

Crenshaw bent forward to examine each one closely, pretending to be genuinely interested. He stopped for a second, noticing something for the first time. On Elizabeth's right pinky finger was a thimble. The finger was only existent to the first knuckle, and the rest cover up with a tiny silver thimble. Very interesting. He stood up straight and looked at Elizabeth. "Let's go with the bird."

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked, not completely sure with the decision. Alistair smiled and looked at Booker, who simply nodded his head in some form of agreement. She put down each jewelry box on the pillows and attached the broach to a tight necklace she had around her neck. "I love it!"

The twins proceeded to walk away. "Surprising, I expected the cage." The redheaded woman said to her counterpart.

"If you're going to be a sore loser then I shan't do this again."

"Now that's just sophistry."

Elizabeth turned around and placed her hands up near her neck to show the two men. "It looks beautiful, Elizabeth." Alistair commented. The girl smiled back at him and then looked at DeWitt, seeking some form of approval. The Pinkerton paid no attention and looked ahead at the crowd of people forming outside. Elizabeth turned to face the crowd and walked towards them.

"My God, look…" Elizabeth held a hand to her mouth and another pointed up. Screams and cries were heard from the crowd on the boardwalk. People started looking at the sky. Alistair walked forward a little and looked towards the sky to see what exactly was causing all the commotion.

The Tower, a gargantuan statue of a woman with wings, was falling apart in a cloud of black smoke. Apparently people used to visit the site until Comstock denied visitation to the area. He heard that the Lamb, Comstock's miracle child, was placed in there after the death of Lady Comstock.

"Did the Prophet predict this?" Stammered one woman.

"It's Fitzroy! It has to be! Who else would perform such a heinous act?" Shouted another man.

Alistair stood back as DeWitt walked over to Elizabeth. He strained to hear their conversation above all of the screaming. Booker asked her is she was all right. What was said next interested Crenshaw the most. Elizabeth said something of the lines of 'It was my home'. He could've been wrong, but Crenshaw was confident in most of his senses. If it was 'her home' that meant… "Well holy shit." Alistair said under his breath, eyes wide upon the realization. If that was truly Elizabeth's home, that meant she was the Lamb of the Prophet. DeWitt had taken the Lamb.

This whole thing got a little more complicated, but it came full circle. "We should get out of here," DeWitt said as he pulled the girl around. Elizabeth walked ahead of him, obviously worried.

"Let's go." Alistair followed the two from behind; not wanting to make it apparent he had discovered what was going on. That was what Comstock had meant when he said DeWitt was taking something important from him; he knew DeWitt would take Elizabeth. But what kind of sonova bitch locked up his own child? Comstock had not won any points in Crenshaw's book. He couldn't jump to conclusions until he had all the facts straight.

"Where was the Songbird when this happened?" Asked one man as they walked past the crowd. A good question. Crenshaw had seen it once or twice flying around the city. The Songbird was a sixty something foot mechanical beast of some sort that was supposed to protect the tower. It resembled a treacherous bird.

Ahead of the trio was a sign that said 'Warning: Police Search'. Several police officers started a line, asking for people's papers as they searched their persons. Crenshaw remembered passing this area, he figured DeWitt and Elizabeth would not walk through so easily with no papers. He stepped ahead of the two and looked around, a door was off to the right of the entrance. "Come on, this way."

A drunkard was laying on the floor in some kind of stupor. "Heys copper! Coppers! Look at these ones ova' 'ere!" Alistair kicked the man's flask across the floor. The bum swore and crawled across the floor to try and reach his flask. Luckily the officers didn't pay any attention to man. DeWitt attempted to open the door, but there was a lock on it.

"Ah, damn things locked." DeWitt said. Elizabeth pushed the man aside and examined the lock on the door. She puled a small metal object out of her sleeve and placed it in the opening. "What are you doing?"

"You two look like roguish types, what do you think I'm doing?" The girl knew how to pick a lock. The lock dropped to the ground. "Done!"

"Well look at you, impressive." Crenshaw said. He opened the door and held it open for his companions.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" DeWitt asked. Before Elizabeth answered, Booker looked at Crenshaw and remembered he didn't exactly trust him. "Actually never mind."

They entered a room with various lock boxes and two desks. They proceeded past them and towards the next door. Crenshaw saw a small bag with Silver Eagles and quickly pocketed it before anyone else noticed. In the next room was a black man on his knees scrubbing the floor. He was mumbling under his breath, something about the establishment. Elizabeth and DeWitt hurried past him, anxious to get out. Crenshaw strolled casually past the man, not in any kind of real hurry. The man on the ground jumped and realized he wasn't alone in the room.

"Ah 'llo missah. Don't you pay me no nevamind. Just some foolishness, y'know. Some monkeyshines." The man said, being careful not to make eye contact with Crenshaw. Alistair simply smiled at the man.

"Keep up the good work, you're doing good." He said warmly.

"Oh thanks you missah," Crenshaw carried on and went up a small flight of stairs to the next room. DeWitt and Elizabeth were at a vending machine. Booker was going through the contents. He purchases a red bottle and drank the contents. Some color came back to his face and he nodded to Elizabeth.

"What was that?" Alistair asked.

"It was a health kit, Mr. DeWitt was injured." Elizabeth replied. "These vending machines sell everything, health kits, salts, ammo, you name it."

"Wait, what the hell are salts? Like the seasoning?" Crenshaw asked.

DeWitt looked at Elizabeth. "Please just call me Booker." Then he turned to Crenshaw. "No smart guy, it replenishes Vigors."

"Oh, silly me." Crenshaw said, shrugging his shoulders. Elizabeth covered her mouth and laughed quietly. "You two go on ahead, I'll catch up." DeWitt nodded and led Elizabeth away from the machine. Crenshaw was interested to see if DeWitt would try and lose Alistair. There obviously wasn't too much trust going on in this partnership based on a lie. Crenshaw purchased a bottle of salts and examined the bottle. It was blue and the same size as the health kit bottle. He took off the cap and drank the contents. Nothing in the city that came in a bottle seemed to taste good, the trade off for technological advancements.

Crenshaw tossed the bottle to the ground and proceeded to catch up with the others. They just walked out a door to what appeared to be a largely populated room. There were two people standing on the left side of the hallway, the interracial couple from the raffle, free and together. "Glad to see you two safe," Crenshaw said as he walked out the door.

The room caught him off guard. It was bright and full of noises. There were two large statues of small boys holding rifles on top of various arcade cabinets. The area was bustling with adults and children alike. He saw DeWitt and Elizabeth talking to each other. "There you are Mr. Crenshaw!" Elizabeth said happily. "Now you can go find an exit like you wanted Mr. DeWitt while we look around!" DeWitt was about to argue, but he sighed. Alistair showing up so soon didn't seem to be a good thing.

"Keep an eye on her." DeWitt jabbed a finger in Crenshaw's face and walked off.

"Well he's just a ray of sunshine isn't he?" Alistair asked.

"Don't mind him Mr. Crenshaw, he probably doesn't mean anything by it." Elizabeth responded.

"Please Elizabeth, you can call me Alistair." Alistair replied with a smile. The two walked closely to a man selling cotton candy.

"Oh, what is this?" Elizabeth asked.

"Cotton candy for the little miss?" The salesman asked. Crenshaw handed him a Silver Eagle and gave the pink cotton candy to Elizabeth.

"It's called cotton candy, have you ever had any?" He asked.

"Had any? I've never seen any." Elizabeth responded. Crenshaw let out a small laugh. He watched as she tore off a piece and put it in her mouth. Her face lit up and she ate more. "Ohhh this is really good! Would you like some Mr…. I mean Alistair?"

"No thanks, dear it's all yours." Elizabeth didn't argue as she continued to eat the pink fluff.

"So Alistair, you're name is pretty unique, what is it exactly?" Elizabeth asked. Was the girl making small talk?

"It's a Scottish name. My parents came over to the United States when my mother was pregnant with me. It means 'defender of the people',"

"And do you represent the common man, Mr. Crenshaw?" Elizabeth was half joking judging by the look on her face.

Alistair smiled and looked at her. "That's in eye of the beholder and all a matter of opinion. I would like to think I'm a man of the people though; my job has me traveling across the United States. I've met many people and learned plenty of things."

The two passed a black man in a suit holding a tray and stopped momentarily to look around the other side of the room. "Excuse me sir, but it would be my pleasure if I could offer you a drink." The man humbly bowed and extended the tray with bottles of soda on it.

"Well thank you." Crenshaw said, taking the bottle and placing a coin on the tray.

"No, no sir the soda is free of charge."

"I never said the money was for the drink." Crenshaw replied. The man bowed his head and repeatedly thanked Alistair. The couple walked towards a hallway leading to an area with benches. Elizabeth sat down and Alistair went beside her, careful not to be too close.

"You sure seen like a representative of man." Crenshaw smiled at Elizabeth's comment. "So what did you learn on your travels Mr. Crenshaw?"

Crenshaw took a swig of his soda. "Just valuable facts on life. Also learned how to speak some Spanish and French."

Elizabeth's face lit up upon mentioning French. "Oh you know French?"

"_Bien sûr"_

"Please tell me you'll come with us to Paris when we get the air ship then!"

Despite the inward feelings of pity he had for the girl, Alistair managed a smile. "If you would like me to, I would love to join."

Elizabeth looked up as if imagining the trip. She swung her legs and held her cotton candy, giving Crenshaw the image of a child. "Why are the bathrooms separated?"

The sudden asking of the question caught Alistair off guard, causing him to choke on his soda. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned to Elizabeth. "Excuse me?"

"The bathrooms," she pointed her finger towards a sign that said ' whites only', "is there a reason they're separate?"

Alistair said and tried to think of a good answer. He was not a political man and he was not interested in starting a fight with people of such extreme views. "Well, it's a way to adjust. Some people still believe that those who are not white are... Not fit to share the same facilities."

Elizabeth looked puzzled by the idea. "Well that seems like a silly rule." Crenshaw chuckled; the girl tells it like it is. Elizabeth stood up. "Well I must use the restroom, will you wait for me here, Mr. Crenshaw?"

"Of course." Crenshaw replied. He watched as she walked into the bathroom and then downed the rest of his drink. He saw a figure approaching him from his right. "Ah Mr. DeWitt, find what you were looking for?"

The Pinkerton was in no mood by the look of things. "Get up, we're having a talk." Should be interesting. Crenshaw nodded and followed DeWitt into the male restroom. Booker checked every stall to ensure they were the only two in the room before locking the door.

Crenshaw folded his arms and leaned against a wall. "Well what is it you wish to talk about?"

"You Crenshaw, or whoever you're supposed to be."

"I'm flattered, but there's nothing really to talk about."

"Everything is a little too convenient. You showed up this afternoon and again as soon as I found Elizabeth, you knew my name. What's your angle? Are you working for Comstock?" His voice wasn't loud but Crenshaw could sense anger behind DeWitt's voice.

"I know you don't trust me, you were watching the two of us the entire time. I already told you DeWitt, I was hired to help you, I don't know why but they must not have confidence in your abilities."

"And that's why I'm calling bull shit. This is a personal matter, there is no way someone else would be hired on." DeWitt withdrew his handgun from its holster. "Talk."

"You're not the only one that is armed, DeWitt." Crenshaw opened up his suit coat to expose his pistol. "I don't think we want to have a shoot out in the bathroom. It'd be pretty embarrassing if they found our bodies in here."

Alistair was paying more attention to DeWitt's pistol and not his free hand. A green orb started forming. When he finally realized what was going on, Crenshaw was hit by Booker's Vigor. His body locked up, he couldn't move. "Dammit, I can't move. That was a mistake DeWitt." Crenshaw said through grinding teeth. Against his own will, Crenshaw withdrew his M1911. He slowly pointed it to his own head, despite the resistance.

"Crenshaw you're making this harder on yourself. Are you working for Comstock?"

"I already told you what I do for a living. If you don't believe me you can take your gun and shove it up your own ass." Crenshaw spit at DeWitt's feet. "Do it big guy. Make me pull the trigger. Kill me." Under DeWitt's command, Crenshaw cocked back the pistol and pressed it to his own temple.

"Don't force me to do this." DeWitt wasn't angry anymore. Crenshaw could tell he didn't want to put him in this situation. He was a man backed in a corner. He was watching his back, and the girl's.

"I won't force you because I know you don't have the guts. Have you really ever killed before?" Alistair taunted him.

"Don't ask me about killing, I've killed. I've killed too many. I don't want to add another to that list, not like this. But I will." The two men stared at each other; the air was thick with tension. A single bead of sweat went down Crenshaw's forehead, could he call DeWitt's bluff?

"Think about it, you kill me here, everyone hears the bullet. Are you willing to kill every single innocent civilian between you and the exit? You won't be very stealthy after that False Shepherd."

A knock on the door caused both men to stop the conversation. DeWitt turned around to face the door.

"Mr. Crenshaw, are you in there?" It was Elizabeth; the girl was out there alone. Booker kept his back to Crenshaw and was facing the exit. He didn't realize that the Vigor wore off and Crenshaw was free to do as he pleased. In a swift movement, Alistair flipped Booker to the ground. He hit the ground hard with a loud 'oof'. Crenshaw barred his arm across DeWitt's neck and stood on his armed hand. He placed the 1911 on the Pinkerton's forehead.

"Yes I am, sorry Elizabeth I had to use the facilities. I'll be out in a moment." Crenshaw called over his shoulder. He looked back at DeWitt, who was calm and collecting his thoughts. "Now, I'm going to take your gun, and back away. We are going to discuss this like adults. Keep in mind, you try anything funny and I will shoot you. I suppose the man who killed the False Shepherd will be treated as a hero so I have nothing to worry about."

"After you." DeWitt said quietly. Alistair disarmed him and got up, backing away slowly. He holstered his own handgun and kept DeWitt's aimed. Booker got up and dusted himself off.

"See, now we can talk like the civilized men we both pretend to be." Crenshaw said cooly. "Now DeWitt, I need you to fill me in on what is going on. I can't help you if I don't know the job. And seeing as I haven't capped you yet, I think you should learn to trust me."

"Trust is a two-way street."

"This is true, so let's start with you. Tell it to me straight. Is that girl who I think she is? Did you kidnap Comstock's lamb?" Crenshaw was genuine in his question.

Booker sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Yea, yea that's her."

"So pretty much the entire city wants you dead?" DeWitt nodded in response. Crenshaw couldn't help but smile. "I like those odds."

"You're crazy you know that right?" Booker commented.

"Oh you haven't seen anything yet. Now DeWitt I believe you have to think about what kind of situation you're currently in. You're not going to have allies coming out of the woodwork to help you. So I think it's in the best interest of you and the girl for you to trust me. And before you question why I'm doing this again, keep in mind that im getting paid a lot of money. A lot." Crenshaw said, waiting for a response. DeWitt crossed his arms and looked at him.

"Don't have much of a choice do I? I have a feeling you'd be following me around regardless if I wanted you to or not."

"Yea that sounds about right. Catch." Crenshaw tossed DeWitt his handgun, who immediately put it in its holster upon catching it. " Now let's get outta here." Crenshaw walked out of the bathroom, DeWitt close behind.

"There you two are, I was getting worried." Elizabeth said.

"We're sorry Elizabeth, me and Mr. DeWitt got wrapped up in taking about life. Shall we?" Crenshaw asked, making a motion with his hands to leave. DeWitt lead the way towards a small set of stairs. They found themselves in front of more turnstiles. A woman was in front of them looking into a small pocket mirror. When and heard the footsteps she turned around.

"Annabelle? It's me Ester!" The woman said, looking directly at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow before answering. "Me? I'm sorry you must be thinking of someone else. My name is Elizabeth."

The woman didn't seem disappointed. "Oh, what a pretty name. I'm sorry for wasting your time, have a good day." The woman and through the turnstile and left their sight.

Elizabeth looked at Alistair, still slightly confused. "Well that was strange."

Crenshaw looked at Elizabeth and then DeWitt. The expression on Bookers face changed when the name 'Annabelle' was used, like it hit him. Crenshaw looked back at Elizabeth. "Yes very strange." Referring more to DeWitt then the name mix up. They walked through the turnstiles and into a larger room with four large pillars. Ahead of them was a ticketing booth. A hot dog vendor bartered blandly with a potential clent. The room seemed to grow oddly quiet as the three walked in. It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the area.

Booker walked to the booth, Crenshaw and Elizabeth following close behind. DeWitt rested his right arm on the window of the booth, and attempting to get the sellers attention. The man was on the phone, paying no mind to the people in front of him. "Excuse me, tw-three tickets for passage to the First Lady airship." The man held up a finger and continued talking on the phone. Crenshaw moved closer to hear him.

"Yea how do you want me to take care of that...thing."

"Kind of in a rush here, pal." DeWitt said again. Crenshaw turned around to look at the lobby. All eyes were on them. Something wasn't right.

The phone was hung up. "Of course sir, sorry about the wait!" The man's voice got progressively more aggressive until he let out a loud grunt. DeWitt shouted in pain. Crenshaw spun around, pistol already out. The ticket salesman had stabbed Booker in the hand, pinning him to the booth. Behind him, Crenshaw heard Elizabeth yelling for someone to let got. All of a sudden it felt like Alistair was punched twice the same time bullets rang out. A yellow material enveloped his body, he had been shot, but the twins' shield worked.

Alistair reacted quickly. He grabbed the man on the other side of the ticket window and put two rounds into his chest. "This is gonna hurt." Crenshaw said to DeWitt. He pulled the knife out, causing Booker to let out another grunt. The bounty hunter spun around, just as Elizabeth frantically kicked the man holding her in the stomach. Crenshaw threw the knife, making direct contact with the man's forehead. Elizabeth screamed as the man dropped in a pool of his own blood. She ran off to the left of the lobby and attempted to slide through the gates that were dropped in front of the exit.

"Let me out of here!" She yelled. She quickly got through and ran down the hall.

"Elizabeth, don't! Damn that girl," Booker exclaimed. Crenshaw slid to a pillar for cover, DeWitt did the same.

"We're still outnumbered, concentrate on them first," Alistair shouted.

"Not for long we're not," Booker stood up and jumped out of cover. His left hand began to look claw like with black feathers. He extended his hand and seemingly out of nowhere a flock of crows attacked the four remaining assailants. The people screamed as the birds began pecking and tearing through skin.

"That's pretty swell, let's try this out." Crenshaw concentrated on Devil's Kiss in his left hand and through the ball of magma at the crowd. Upon exploding, the crows caught fire and continued to rip apart the attackers. They were now screaming in agony because of both fire and birds. One by one they slowly hit the ground.

"Nice teamwork." Crenshaw said. He took off his suit coat, stealth just went out the door, and he wouldn't need to cover his holster anymore. He looked up as the lights suddenly went out.

"Don't start your victory dance just yet." DeWitt replied. He picked up a dropped weapon and examined it. "Full ammo on a machine gun, just what I needed."

Crenshaw grabbed a dropped shotgun and filled it with ammo from a corpse. "Wait a portable machine gun? I've heard of turret machine guns but a personal size? That's pretty crazy. Gotta love technology."

A whistle sounded off behind the metal bars blocking the exit. Boots were hitting the ground, sounded like five or six pairs. "Ambush?" DeWitt asked.

"Sounds like a good plan to me." The two men got behind pillars and kept tight to them, being careful not to have any part exposed. A slew of police officers entered the room, but slowed down when they realized there was no-one to shoot at.

The officers checked the corpses of the dead assailants. "DeWitt isn't one of them." One of the cops said.

"Well where the hell is he? The room is locked." Obviously they weren't that bright. Crenshaw nodded to DeWitt, who nodded back. The men burst from around their pillars in a blaze of gunfire. The officers that were caught by surprise were immediately cut down, and the others returned fire. Debris from the room flew through the air as rounds struck walls and the floor.

Crenshaw felt a sudden pain on his side as a officer struck him with a club. He cursed himself for not paying attention. Quickly he wrapped his arm around the cop's extended arm and pulled up, dislocating his arm immediately. Still holding the officer, Crenshaw remembered he had the skyhook with him. He took it out and placed the blades around the man's neck. With one pull of the trigger, the blades snapped the neck like a toothpick. The body gave way and slumped to the floor.

Alistair looked around; the only other person standing was Booker. The eerie silence had returned to the room, this time for a different reason. "Let's search the area for anything useful then find the girl." DeWitt said. He was wiping his bleeding hand on a corpse. Crenshaw nodded and went back to the ticket booth. He hopped the window and walked towards the man who had stabbed Booker. He was still alive, clutching his chest. Blood seeped through his clothes and he was choking on blood.

"Impressive, you're still alive." Crenshaw bent down and looked the man in the eye. "Bad move boy-o."

The man propped himself up and spit blood on Crenshaw's face. "You're the one who made the bad move." The man sneered. "You went against the Prophet and that will be your death. He predicted your betrayal."

"I'm no Judas, pal. You shot me first. Your Prophet isn't good at the game of trust."

"You should have killed DeWitt the moment you saw him. A bounty hunter with an extreme sense of morality. A joke."

Crenshaw was in no mood to be lectured by a dying fool. He took his handgun and put the nose of the weapon in one of the bullet entrance wounds. He twisted the gun, causing the man to shout in pain. "You nor your Prophet tells me what to do. So far I have seen DeWitt do nothing worthy of death. In fact, he saved a girl from a tower. In by book that's a pretty good deed. However, you and Comstock are not worthy of my mercy." Crenshaw fired another round into the man's chest. He fell back to the ground. Alistair watched as the life drained from his eyes and he breathed one final time. He stood up and walked away, grabbing money on a near by desk on the way out. "Tell your Prophet he has made a fool's error."

Crenshaw saw DeWitt in the hall looting two new corpses. "Catch." DeWitt tossed a ammo belt with shotgun shells and pocketed a machine gun magazine for himself.

"Much appreciated." Alistair slung the belt over his shoulder and strapped the shotgun to his back. "Let's see where Elizabeth scampered off to."

The two men jogged down the hall which eventually led them outside. There was a trolley waiting in a station ready to depart. The two could hear Elizabeth, she was attempting to start it up. "Elizabeth wait up a second!" Booker shouted.

"No stay away from me!" Crenshaw and DeWitt hopped on the trolley and headed to cockpit. Elizabeth was trying to pull a lever, but was not strong enough. Crenshaw pulled the switch and the trolley jumped to life and began to ride the rail. She quickly turned her back to the men and looked out a window.

"You killed them. They're all dead, you killed all those people!" Elizabeth was obviously shaken by the experience. There was a slight tear in the bottom of her dress from the scuffle.

Crenshaw walked towards her, a hand extended. "Elizabeth..."

The girl turned around and looked at the bounty hunter, anger in her eyes. "Don't touch me. You're a monster!" She pushed Alistair back. "You killed that man right in front of me! You threw a knife in his throat! The blood... There was so much blood..." She looked away and breathed heavily, attempting to keep her composure. Alistair didn't know what to say to her. She was new to the dangers of the world, she didn't know what was necessary to survive at times.

Booker patted Crenshaw and moved past him. "What did you think was going to happen Elizabeth, hm?"

Elizabeth sniffed gently. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know what expense those people kept you up in your tower? You are an investment. They won't let you go easily. You won't be safe until you are far away from here."

Elizabeth turned around and looked at DeWitt. "What do they want from me?"

"I don't know, but that'll be the last time they get the jump on me." He looked at Crenshaw. "On us."

"We won't let anything happen to you." Crenshaw added in. He put out his hand and wiped the tears from Elizabeth's eyes. "It'll be ok." He tried to reassure her. The first time seeing someone killed. He remembered the first time he saw someone killed in front of him. It was also his first kill. It's one of those things that kept him up at night. A face he sees when he closes his eyes.

Crenshaw shook off his trance and leaned up against the window. DeWitt examined his wounded hand, blood still covering it. "You feeling OK?" Crenshaw asked, motioning to the hand

"Well I can still move it." DeWitt replied.

"Let me see it." Elizabeth asked. She tore a small piece of her dress off and used it as a bandage. She slowly wrapped it, Booker occasionally wincing. "What happened back there, that's… that's not the last of it, is it?"

"I… don't know." DeWitt replied.

"In a perfect world, maybe it will be." Crenshaw added in. Elizabeth finished wrapping the bandage and walked over to Alistair.

"You have some blood on your face." Elizabeth said. It was the ticket seller's that he forgot to clean up. She took out a small white handkerchief and proceeded to wipe it off. "I guess I best get used to these situations. I've read some things on medicine so I guess I can keep you two stocked with remedies. And if the wounds are worse I'll try my best to keep you on this side of the abyss." There was sadness in her voice.

"Don't get used to these situations, when you get used to death it de-humanizes you. Just be prepared, be strong. I know you'll do fine" Crenshaw attempted to give an encouraging grin. Elizabeth tried her best to return the smile, she still wasn't all back mentally from what she witnessed yet. She backed away when she cleaned up Alistair's face. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

The group walked off the trolley and walked up a flight of stairs. "Well we're here… where exactly is here?" Alistair asked. DeWitt walked towards a map billboard and examined it.

"Soldier's Field amusement park… the First Lady can be boarded here." The trio saw the entrance via turnstile. A point of no return upon entering.

"Well, let's have some fun then shall we?"

* * *

Well that's chapter three. I hope everyone has been enjoying the story so far. As you can see, the chapters will vary in length, but nothing too short I'll be sure of that. I appreciate everyone who has read or commented on the story thus far, feedback is always great.

I'll update when I can!


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV: Are We Having Fun Yet?

"I'm not having fun at this damn park at all!" Crenshaw shouted over the hail of bullets.

"Well shut up and keep firing!" DeWitt called back. The police had blocked off their exit, they knew that the trio would be trying to get into the Hall of Heroes.

"Cover your ears!" Alistair stood up and extended his left arm with a flat palm. A sonic boom emitted from his hand, shattering near by store windows and sending the police and their barricades soaring. Booker and Elizabeth stood up from cover and looked around, the coast was clear.

"Haven't seen that one before." DeWitt commented as he began to grab ammunition.

"Won it at the fair." Crenshaw lied, holding onto his shoulder. His shield had been ruptured and a machine gun bullet struck him during the firefight. Elizabeth looked at his wound and began to patch him up.

"Will you say still?" She asked due to Crenshaw's squirming. "You're such a big baby."

"Well excuse me Miss, but getting shot stings."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been shot in the first place." DeWitt chimed in.

"No one asked you!" Alistair watched as Elizabeth did her handiwork. "I swear to God, I thought this was going to be a nice break."

* * *

**Forty-five minutes earlier**

Once past the turnstile, the group found themselves in a large red, white, and blue themed room. Music was blaring over loudspeakers and mechanical objects were moving in all areas of the room. In the center of the room was a saluting eagle with a rotunda of mechanical children marching.

"Well this is... Patriotic." DeWitt commented.

"Makes me want to re-enlist" Crenshaw joked.

"That's the whole purpose of this park, fill children with a sense of patriotic duty." Elizabeth added in.

"Well that's one way to do it." The group walked towards the exit. Crenshaw noticed an odd device, looking something like a generator. Inside of a glass orb of the generator was a blue crystal like structure. The crystal began to move rapidly. A spark shot out of the machine and the entire room went dark. The music stopped and a giant metal gate dropped in front of the exit.

"Well isn't that great." Crenshaw sighed.

"Are we locked in? There has to be another exit." Elizabeth asked.

"Not so fast, I can probably lift this." DeWitt walked to the gate and grabbed it by the handle and lifted. He grunted and pressed it over his shoulder.

Elizabeth and Alistair walked under the gate. Crenshaw held it up on the other side so DeWitt could walk under. The bounty hunter dropped it and caught up with the others. "I know you wanted to show off but I could've helped with that you know," Alistair joked. DeWitt waved him off.

"Shock Jockey, Who needs the Power Company." Elizabeth read aloud. The two men examined a large billboard with a cartoon man riding a lightning bolt.

"Some fool's alternative to electricity." DeWitt commented.

"And we all see how well that worked." Alistair quipped.

In front of them was a spread out layout of shops and rides. A Ferris wheel and carousel were in the distance. Even though it was growing dark there were still many families enjoying the park. Children were giggling and running in circles, chasing each other with large stuffed animals.

"Mr. DeWitt can we..." Elizabeth began, talking how a child would ask their father for something.

"No Elizabeth." DeWitt cut her off. "We need to get moving."

"Paris won't be going anywhere though! This will be my first and last time enjoying this park!" Elizabeth held her hands together and stared at DeWitt. When he wouldn't budge she turned to Crenshaw.

Alistair wouldn't say no to her, and he enjoyed angering Booker. "I say we stick around and scavenge while we aren't being shot at. Maybe grab some food too while we're at it."

Booker sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Did you already forget that we were just getting shot at a little bit ago? It can happen again at any time."

"Think about it DeWitt, this is valuable time we can use to gather supplies. If something goes wrong later and we don't eat we're going to have to start eating food from garbage cans, you may like that idea but I'm sure Elizabeth doesn't."

DeWitt looked back and forth between his two companions and threw up his hands. "Ok fine, but not too long."

Elizabeth cheered and began to look around. "Where do we start?"

"Up to you, lead the way." Crenshaw said. The girl began walking off to what appeared to be an ice cream parlor. Alistair turned to Booker. "That wasn't so hard was it? You just made her day"

"Everything makes her day."

The trio entered the shop one at a time. It had a very high ceiling with ice cream cone banners hanging from it. A ceiling fan had small toy planes attached to it. There were tables and counters with bar stools to sit. "What are those two boys supposed to be? I saw them at the arcade." Crenshaw asked, pointing to two large statues behind the counter.

"That's Duke and Dimwit!" Alistair and Elizabeth ordered ice cream and DeWitt stood back, arms crossed. They walked outside and strolled while eating. "You know, like 'remember boys and girls, don't be a Dimwit!' It was my favorite growing up. They talked about how children could be upstanding Columbian citizens."

"Sounds like a weird PSA to me." Alistair replied, taking a chunk out of his ice cream. "You're really missing out DeWitt." Motioning to the ice cream.

'I'm fine without it thanks." They finished their ice cream and walked into a book store across the way.

"God I haven't finished a book in months. I used to avidly read." Crenshaw said, slightly in aw from the shelves upon shelves of novels. He slowly pulled out several books and examined them, being careful not to open the binding too much.

Elizabeth looked around and opened up a few books. "Even though all I had to do was read, I never really got tired of it." She smiled at a book and held it to Booker. "Mr. DeWitt would you be interested in gardening?"

Crenshaw laughed at the idea and Booker shot a look at him. "Part of town I'm from usually looks down upon gardening."

"And what part of town is that?" Elizabeth inquired.

"New York."

"Chicago is better." Alistair quickly stated.

"We're not turning this into a contest."

"Because you know you'd lose."

DeWitt sighed and walked out of the store. Elizabeth and Crenshaw followed him out, smiling at each other. They went to a hotdog stand, each ordered one and then sat down on a bench. The trio ate in silence, watching children enjoy themselves and parents talk. The last glimmers of the sun reflected off various store windows.

"So... Mr. DeWitt is there a Mrs. DeWitt?" Elizabeth's question caused Crenshaw to nearly choke on his food. She sure wasn't afraid to ask things.

Booker stared at his hot dog for several seconds before responding. "There was."

"There was?" Elizabeth asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"She died during child birth."

"Well shit." Crenshaw thought to himself.

"Do you have a child?" Elizabeth was trying to be hopeful.

"No."

"Double shit." Crenshaw knew how DeWitt felt, how it was to lose someone you loved. He sympathized with him, made him understand just that much more. Considering how his life went, his outlook seemed understandable.

Elizabeth looked down, not sure what to say. "I'm... I'm so sorry." She swung her feet a little, feeling bad for Booker. "Mr. Crenshaw, is there anyone special in your life?"

"Dammit I couldn't be avoided could I," Crenshaw thought to himself. He pondered what to say, not wanting to make Elizabeth feel worse for asking. "At one point there was a girl," Crenshaw began, "but that feels like a lifetime ago. If it's all the same Miss Elizabeth I'd rather not get into details." He gave her a weak smile, masking the torment he felt for even bringing Her up. DeWitt looked over to Alistair, seeing a man similar to him. Both men had suffered loss.

Elizabeth got silent again. Crenshaw could feel the air get thick; it was an awkward subject to be brought up with unfortunate endings. Alistair attempted to clear the air. "I hope Songbird wasn't bringing guys up to your tower before we met you." He said jokingly.

Elizabeth chuckled a little. "I never talked to another human before I met Mr. DeWitt. You two have been the only ones to hold a conversation with me.

"Well we are both honored to hold that role." Crenshaw replied. A loud noise came from above as the First Lady airship soared by. Alistair stood up and crumpled his hotdog wrapper. "Well there it is."

Elizabeth immediately jumped up and looked at Booker. "That will take us to Paris right Mr. DeWitt?" She was excited at the very idea.

"Just stay close when we go over there. And call me Booker."

"Oh, yes. Booker." She still hasn't gotten over the proper terms, not a bad thing.

Booker led them towards what they believed to be a dock to get them to the First Lady. "Booker," Elizabeth began, "why exactly were you sent to get me?"

"I don't know exactly, maybe they wanted to meet you." Booker replied, "Or to learn your lock picking."

"Well that's strange."

"Frankly I never even heard of this place before I was sent here."

That struck Crenshaw odd. How did DeWitt not know about Columbia? It was a flying city after all, it was the first and only of it's kind. The only people Alistair knew of that weren't aware of the city almost literally lived under a rock. Was he ignorant or was he really truthful? He was tempted to say something but held back.

"Really? I assumed Columbia was common knowledge." Elizabeth commented.

"I guess I really haven't kept up with the news."

"What exactly is it that you did Booker?"

"I'm… an independent contractor. Used to do work with the Pinkerton's. Not something you'd want gracing your resume."

"Pinkertons… weren't they the ones who'd settle things when worker's went on strike?"

Booker chuckled briefly at Elizabeth's comment. "Settle is one word for it yes." Settled indefinitely. Those men were dangerous, every time Crenshaw heard of a labor strike he knew the Pinkertons were their to end it. Brutal beatings prevented further outbreaks.

Elizabeth turned Crenshaw, not wanting to get into the grizzlier details of the career of a Pinkerton. "What about you Mr. Crenshaw, you said you traveled a lot. What exactly made you travel?'

"Well when I got back from the Army I found work as a bounty hunter. I essentially bring people to justice that the government have trouble locating or putting behind bars. It took me to every corner of the country."

"Never heard a bounty hunter talk about bringing people to justice, usually about the money." DeWitt remarked. Alistair was sure Booker had dealt with many bounty hunters.

"Pay's decent." Crenshaw said blandly.

The pier had another generator similar to the patriotic room they saw earlier. A single lever was placed in order to call a trolley to the First Lady. Crenshaw approached the lever first. "Well this has been a nice change from shooting people. A nice relaxing walk that has gone our way." As he pulled the lever a spark went off from the generator as it partially exploded. Alistair jumped and stared the device, then to his two companions, giving a shrug.

DeWitt crossed his arms. "Ya had to open your mouth and say things were going our way didn't you?"

"I blame your negativity, "Crenshaw shot back.

"Look!" Elizabeth said as she pointed to a message board. "Look into the future, see Shock Jockey in the Hall of Heroes. That's what powers these generators."

"See DeWitt everything works out in the long run. Let's head back the way we came. I saw the entrance earlier." Crenshaw took point as they walked. Elizabeth made a 'hm' noise as the group passed a carousel.

"What?" DeWitt asked.

"I was trying to imagine you on one of those rides." Elizabeth replied. Alistair couldn't help but bust out in laughter.

"Oh I would pay for that."

"Just keep walking Crenshaw." As DeWitt spoke, a police officer exited a shop. Crenshaw walked closer to Elizabeth and Booker. The officer stared at them as they passed.

"We're making a detour." Alistair whispered. The trio quickened their pace and went down an alternate path that took them out of sight. The police officer's steps became noticeably faster as well. Once they were out of sight Crenshaw motioned for Elizabeth and DeWitt to go ahead. Booker took her by the arm and hid somewhere up ahead. Alistair went to the shadows and put his back to the wall, waiting.

When the cop appeared he looked around and cursed for missing them. He proceeded to carry on his search but Crenshaw covered his mouth and pulled him into the darkness. He placed his handgun to the cop's head. "You try and make a noise without my permission and you die, are we clear?" The officer didn't make a sound. "This is one of those times you've been given permission." The man said a muffled 'uh-huh'

"Good, now that we have an understanding I'm going to start with a few questions. Do you know who that man was with me?"

Again another 'uh-huh' and what appeared to sound like 'The False Shepherd'.

Didn't surprise Crenshaw that the cop knew. "Moving on, do you know who I am?"

The man nodded his head in the affirmative. Crenshaw couldn't help but show the astonishment on his face. "How did they know who I am? I'm just a no body in comparison to the False Shepherd." Alistair thought to himself. "Ok, I'm going to remove my hand from you mouth, when I do so don't you dare try and make any noise because I will kill you." He said aloud.

The bounty hunter slowly removed his hand and looked at the police officer, who simply rubbed his mouth. "I'm not afraid of you." The man said.

"Is that so?" Crenshaw smiled. "Doesn't matter if you are or aren't. I just want answers. How do the police know who I am?"

"Each station received wanted posters an hour or two ago. They are very large shipments. They all have your face on them, and the False Shepherd of course. "

Crenshaw ran his hands through his hair and swore under his breath. "How the hell? Where did these posters come from?"

"Comstock's men sent them over. You're wanted for Murder and Treason."

"That sonova bitch Comstock sold me out. He had no intention for me to receive a reward. He wanted me to kill DeWitt just to get him out of the way. I was a lose end, should have seen this coming. Kind of did after all." Crenshaw thought rapidly.

"I suggest you all get out of here quick, the rest of the force are on their way."

Crenshaw looked at the cop with a raised eyebrow. "Why are you helping me? Shouldn't be like the rest of those crazies?"

"I'm not from here. Just arrived to the city a year or two ago with my wife and kids. She's religious, I don't believe in no God. I was an officer back East in the States. I just want to do my job, and killing you doesn't appear like a part of a true lawman's job."

"Well thank you officer, I appreciate that. You'll live to see your family again." Crenshaw quickly put the man in a chokehold and lowered him to the ground. "Can't make it look too obvious can it that you helped? You'll be a hero for confronting me." He whispered as the man slowly lost consciousness.

Crenshaw walked back out in the open. DeWitt and Elizabeth had been keeping a lookout from a large doorway. "Jesus Christ we're worse off then I thought." Crenshaw stated, rubbing his chin while trying to think.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

Alistair pointed to Booker and himself. "All the police know our faces. We are wanted men. Apparently it's no secret who we are."

"What did you do to he officer?"

"He's just knocked out, he'll be fine. Now we have to get out of here before the police catch up." Alistair said, ready to move out.

"About that," Booker started, "they're already here with barricades. Standing in the way of the Hall."

Alistair sighed and took out his shotgun. "Looks like we're going to have some fun then." Before Booker could say anything Crenshaw had already ran off, shotgun in one hand and Devil's Kiss in another.

"Don't just run in! Damn he's going to be the death of us." DeWitt equipped his machine gun and told Elizabeth to stay close but be careful.

Crenshaw saw the barricade up a small set of stairs. A police officer turned just as the bounty hunter charged up the stairs. Before the cop could pull out his pistol Alistair had pumped a single shell into the man's head, causing it to explode like a watermelon. He hopped over the wooden barricade and threw his vigor at two officers standing near each other. The ball of magma made contact with one, causing an explosion that enclosed the other man in flames. Another cop rushed Crenshaw while firing his carbine. Several bullets made contact, but the shield held them at bay. The officer was confused why the man before him had not dropped, and he was out of ammo in the clip. The cop attempted to hit Crenshaw with the rifle, but he caught it with his free hand. Alistair gave a sharp tug and pulled the man into his shotgun, giving a single pull of the trigger. The cop shook as the shell shredded up his insides, he fell over dead.

"Watch out Mr. Crenshaw!" Elizabeth shouted from behind. Alistair looked up and saw a group of new cops run from behind building to join the fight. He picked up the dropped carbine and a clip before running back to cover. Booker was shooting with his machine gun at the group. Crenshaw heard the screech of birds as DeWitt used Murder of Crows on the police. Just as Alistair jumped the barricade a burst of machine gun fire smacked him in the shoulder. His shield broke and a bullet tore through his body. He hit the ground with a thud nd swore loudly.

"Dammit as if I don't have enough scars you sons of bitches!"

"Alistair catch!" Elizabeth tossed a health kit bottle towards the bounty hunter, who caught it and drank all the contents immediately. He didn't know where she found it but right now he didn't care. Crenshaw felt the stinging slowly go away, the bleeding slowed just as quickly as it started. How quick the liquid worked amazed him.

Alistair joined in the battle with DeWitt, who was quickly dispatching enemies with his machine gun. "We got more of them coming!" Shouted the Pinkerton. Alistair used his new carbine to pick off the new crowd.

"I'm not having fun at this damn park at all!" Crenshaw shouted.

* * *

**Present Time**

"Those cops knew where to set themselves up. They were waiting." DeWitt commented.

"Well they caught us right at the ticket booth so this shouldn't be a surprise." Crenshaw replied. They walked towards and elevator and entered it. "Side tracking for a bit." He referred to the Hall of Heroes.

"Story of my life." DeWitt replied.

"Hall of Heroes is closed until further notice…" Elizabeth read from a sign.

"That just means there won't be a line." DeWitt commented.

"Make way for the VIPs."

DeWitt punched the elevator button. The doors closed and the gears buzzed to life as the lift slowly went down. All of a sudden the entire elevator shook and the lights dimmed, coming to a complete stop. Booker fell back towards a wall and caught himself, Elizabeth lost her balance but Crenshaw held onto her.

"Ah hell," Alistair muttered.

"What's going on? Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked, looking at the ceiling as if the answer was there.

"Nothing I can't fix." DeWitt walked to control box and opened the cover to expose the panel. He pried it off to examine the inner workings.

Crenshaw walked to the door and pulled it open. They were definitely stuck in the shaft, if DeWitt couldn't fix it they might be able to climb through the roof.

Elizabeth began waving her hand around like she was shooing something away. "Everything alright there Elizabeth?"

"It's a bee! I hate bees!"

"Just kill the thing." Booker chimed in, closing the circuit box door. The elevator began to move again.

"No it'll sting me!"

"Elizabeth." DeWitt thought the entire thing was ridiculous.

"Here, let a burly fellow like myself take care of this." Crenshaw joked, walking towards the girl.

"No I have a better idea." Elizabeth put her hands together as if she were parting a curtain. The result was not what Alistair could have ever expected. The girl slowly pulled her hands apart until it became a smooth movement. A window with flowers and a perfect blue sky replaced the wall out of nowhere. The image was grainy but slowly melded into their surrounding.

"Whoa shit!" Booker exclaimed.

Alistair realized he unconsciously backed up to a wall. Wide eyed, he attempted to collect his thoughts. "W-what the hell? How did you...?"

DeWitt was in a similar state and now speechless. Elizabeth simply smiled and scooted the bee out the window. "It's a tear." She said in an extreme matter of fact tone.

Crenshaw couldn't help but laugh nervously. "Oh of course, you make it sound like it's a normal thing." He cautiously approached the window and extended his hand. He jumped when his hand went through it and he felt a nice breeze. Elizabeth reached out to the ledge of the window and plucked a flower. With a smile she placed it on Alistair's vest lapel. She grabbed another and put it begins her ear. Crenshaw laughed again, completely amazed. "Elizabeth this is amazing! Excuse my language but holy shit."

The girl put a hand on her shoulder and twirled slightly. "Well I'm glad you're impressed Mr. Crenshaw."

"What the hell is a tear?" DeWitt spoke up.

"It's like… a window. A window to another world. Most of the time they're dull as dishwater. Change the color of a towel, tea instead of coffee. But sometimes? Sometimes I see something amazing and pull it through."

"Good God." Crenshaw breathed out.

"Got an airship in there?" DeWitt asked.

A distanced noise came from the window. Elizabeth looked outside, "There's something out there." Crenshaw looked around as well. A high-pitched screech sliced through the air as a large object swooped in front of the window.

"Oh shit close it! Close it now!" Booker shouted. The creature was the Songbird, everyone recognized it. It's hands were curled into fists as its wings stretched to turn around in the air. It began to soar towards the window.

"I'm trying I'm trying!" Elizabeth frantically tried to close the 'tear'. Crenshaw hated feeling helpless to the impending monstrosity. He aimed his carbine and prepared to fire everything he had, regardless if it would do anything. As he was about to pull the trigger Elizabeth clapped her hands together and the window disappeared. The elevator wall returned with a poster of songbird, fitting.

Elizabeth fell to the wall and let out a deep breath. Alistair gave a sigh of relief and put away his rifle. "Never again." DeWitt started. "You will not do that again."

"Are you kidding? That was amazing, she could help us and make combat that much easier."

DeWitt shook his head and pointed a finger where the window was and then to Crenshaw. "Frankly I have no idea what just happened, but whatever it was I'm pretty sure it's a way to get us quickly killed."

Alistair looked over at Elizabeth, who was taking the criticism hard. "DeWitt, man the hell up, this could work."

"We could handle it, we don't need the extra help." DeWitt shot back.

"Fine, have it your way." Crenshaw replied, staring DeWitt in the eye. The Pinkerton walked off ahead of the group. Elizabeth looked down at the ground, playing around with her hands. Crenshaw held onto her arms, and squeezed her reassuringly. "That was amazing. Don't pay attention to him, he's just…."

"I just want to help…"

"I know Liz, I know you do." Crenshaw tried to comfort her the best he knew how. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her head so she looked at him. "Can I get a smile?"

Elizabeth weakly smiled, still not confident after DeWitt's criticism. "That's what I like to see, let's get going huh?" Elizabeth nodded and went to catch up with Booker. Crenshaw sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time."

* * *

Author's Note:

That's chapter four, hope you enjoyed it. I'm really looking forward to chapters coming up, more combat and more excitement. For those of you who are thinking this is just a writing of the video game, don't worry. Things will be getting switched up very soon. Until next time


	5. Chapter V

**Chapter V: Enemies or Allies**

"Get over here and check this out!" Booker DeWitt was crouched down in front of an opened crate. He sifted through the packaging straw. He pulled one object out and continued to look for another.

Crenshaw and Elizabeth came up behind him and watched as DeWitt pulled another bottle out. The Pinkerton tossed one to Alistair. "What is this, a vigor?" Crenshaw asked, examining the bottle. The cap was a figurine of a horse, its font hooves high in the air. The bottle and liquid were a golden color. A tag hung around the neck with a pendant depicting a horse. Alistair flipped the tag around, "Bucking bronco," he read aloud.

"What do you think it does?" DeWitt questioned.

Crenshaw threw the cap to the ground and swirled the liquid around. "Good question. Lets find out." Before drinking it he turned to Elizabeth. "Want a sip?"

The girl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I have enough strange powers, thank you." Saying it loud enough for DeWitt to hear as well.

Alistair shrugged and drank all the contents of the bottle. The liquid ran down his throat, flavorless so he couldn't complain about the taste. All of a sudden it felt like he was punched in the stomach, his ears rang with the screeching of a horse. He looked at his hands, they were bubbling and parts of his skin began to float in the air. A golden orange aura began to cover parts of flesh. Just as the others, the effects of the vigor disappeared and Crenshaw regained control of his body. He peered to DeWitt, who was coughing wildly after the transformation.

"You Ok over there?"

"You'd think after four of these things it would be second nature by now." Booker straightened up and cracked his neck. "Well shock jockey isn't going to just hand itself over, lets get going."

The trio walked towards the exit, passing a giant mechanical structure resembling George Washington. "I can't wait to use this thing." Crenshaw said as his hand glowed with Bucking Bronco.

"Do you enjoy killing people Mr. Crenshaw?" Elizabeth asked, her question wasn't meant to offend but rather learn more.

Alistair took a double take before answering. "That makes it sound really bad. I don't enjoy killing, that's... Sadistic. I don't try to start fights either. I just... Combat reminds me I'm alive. And getting shot like I just did reminds me I'm just human, despite having these swell new powers."

"Doesn't like killing says the man who does it for a living." DeWitt muttered.

"Coming from the man who beat people into submission." Crenshaw retorted. Neither comments were made out of anger; it appeared the relationship would be built off of insults.

The group went outside and immediately crouched. A gathering of soldiers were huddled in the open between two buildings. In the distance was a gondola station that would be the path to the Hall of Heroes. Elizabeth looked to DeWitt and Crenshaw, "What are they talking about?"

Alistair strained to make out anything other then a few words. He heard 'Slate' and 'Vox Populi' mentioned, both of which he recognized. If he was correct, the soldiers were speaking of Captain Slate, an army veteran. He heard rumors that the captain disappeared into Columbia, they might have been true. The Vox Populi, Latin for people's voice. They were a group against Comstock and the Founders. Were the two related somehow?

"We'll discuss after we get rid of the cops. We have a plan?" Crenshaw asked.

"Try out this new vigor and hope everything works out."

"Seems as good an idea as any." Crenshaw stood up and charged the new Vigor in his left hand. He opened his hand and faced the crowd, resulting in a shockwave tearing along the ground. Loose rocks and litter began to float. The rest of the wave hit the group, at which point the four soldiers began to hover in the air. They began to yell and curse as Crenshaw and DeWitt approached, weapons ready. Each man dropped immediately as a bullet ended his life. Alistair kept his weapon close, expecting reinforcements.

"Watch out!" Elizabeth's warning caused the men to spin around. Double doors burst open from a two-story building. Three soldiers began to fire machine guns relentlessly. Both Alistair and Booker charged the men, absorbing several shots with their shields. DeWitt tossed a Devils Kiss at the crowd, causing a chain reaction of fire. Crenshaw took out his shotgun and fired, making contact with all three. The bounty hunter used the weapon like a golf club and hit a struggling soldier in the head. The fire consumed the other two as they rolled bleeding and burning on the ground.

Booker let out a heavy breath and turned to Alistair, "Not so tough, right?" Before Crenshaw could respond, gunfire filled the air. Bullets hit the men's shields from two directions. One concentration of fire was coming from up the stairs, another from outside. The men rolled in different directions.

"I got the stairs, you go back outside!" Crenshaw shouted. He ran to a billboard and used it as cover. He reloaded his shotgun and assessed the situation. Approximately two men firing at him from upstairs, one with a machine gun and one with a carbine. Higher ground meant they had the better position. Unknown if there are more people upstairs.

Crenshaw waited for a break in the machine gun fire. His shield wouldn't stand up to continuous fire from both weapons. He quickly ran out of cover and towards the stairs. Hand extended, Alistair sent a sonic boom towards the soldiers. The vigor tore through the balcony banister and tore it to shreds, sending the men flying in the air with wooden shrapnel. Crenshaw felt weaker as he ran towards the downed officers, ready to finish them off. He must be out of salts, he would need to find some if he wanted to use more Vigors. He pumped a single shell into each man, and quickly turned around to clear the rest of the second floor.

Shots were being fired, not in his direction but somewhere in the vicinity. Alistair saw an opening to a deck, he assumed the shots were coming from there. He switched to his carbine and headed to the opening. A man was firing at DeWitt, who was already preoccupied with two other hostiles. Crenshaw grabbed his skyhook and tapped the soldier on the shoulder. The man stopped firing and turned around. Alistair punched him in the face with the skyhook, sinking the blades deep into the skull. The bounty hunter revved the machine. The blades spun and perforated the man's face further. He gave a good push and the corpse went flying over the balcony.

With his carbine, Crenshaw easily picked off the remaining men with DeWitt. "I think we're all clear." Alistair shouted down.

"Looks like it, get down here so we can get going," Crenshaw nodded in response. He was prepared to jump down but was stopped as a pack of crows swarmed on his location.

"Alistair!" Crenshaw could hear Elizabeth as he fell backwards. He attempted to protect his face from the birds. He heard more screeching 'caws' in the distance, sounded like two more packs. Crenshaw attempted to fire off his shotgun into the crowd of birds but they moved just at the right time and then continued their attack.

"Damn I need to use a vigor," Crenshaw rapidly thought to himself, but he was out of salts.

"Catch!" Like a prayer being answered, Elizabeth threw a bottle of salts up to the second floor balcony. Still getting pecked at, Alistair scrambled to the bottle and drank it all. He opened his hand as the contents ran down his throat and fired of a sonic boom. The birds crashed against a wall and transformed into a man. Crenshaw had blood running down his arms from having bits of skin torn off from the birds. He quickly pulled the trigger of his shotgun as the birdman struggled to get up. The buckshot smashed into his head and he crumbled back to the ground.

He looked on the ground and saw Booker fighting two different bird men, they were in a uniform that looked like a cross between the Free Masons and KKK. They wore a dark blue pointed hood that covered their entire head and carried a large blade. Crenshaw started firing at one of them, only to have the man burst into a flock of crows.

Alistair was surprised to see figures on the opposite roof, they were not police of any sort but he still didn't know if they were hostile. They varied in size and age, the oldest not looking older then nineteen. He went to fire a warning shot at their feet but his carbine jammed. "Sonova bitch." He frantically cleared the jam as the people raised bottles, which he could assume was a Molotov cocktail. "DeWitt heads up!" Crenshaw shouted, pointing to the rooftop. Booker dodged an attack by the crow man and looked up.

"Now!" The voice was young, reinforcing the idea of the group being teenagers. DeWitt ran towards Elizabeth as the bottles started hitting the ground, catching the bird men on fire.

"Were they trying to help or are they just really bad at aiming?" Crenshaw thought to himself, still keeping his rifle concentrated on the group. DeWitt shot the burning men to death making sure the job was done. He looked at the group on the roof, not sure what to make of it either.

"We did it!"

"Told you it would work!" The people on the roof cheered at their 'victory'. They dropped ropes and slid down one by one. Crenshaw hopped off the balcony and onto the ground to see what was going on.

They were definitely a rag tag bunch. Two kids as young as twelve and two as old as about nineteen from the looks of it and everywhere in between. There were about nine in total, dressed in common clothes with their own rebellious teenage flair. "Mr. DeWitt," said one of the older boys, extending a hand, "I would like to be the first to say that it's an honor."

DeWitt, Elizabeth, and Crenshaw all exchanged perplexed looks. Booker looked at the boy's hand and cautiously shook it. "Um thanks for the assistance," the way DeWitt said it made it sound more like a question then a statement.

"Of course, sir. We've been trying to find you ever since you've arrived, and we couldn't let them harm the False Shepherd."

"Wait what?" Crenshaw butted in. "Now you're telling me you purposely injured those men so you could help out the False Shepherd?"

"Yes that's correct," answered one of the group.

"We are The Herd, and we have the closest following of the Shepherd in all of Columbia. We view him as the true Prophet."

Crenshaw crossed his arms, ignoring the fact that they were still bleeding. These kids did not appear to be some kind of satanic cult to worship an idol that had a bad reputation, they were simply kids. Judging by their clothes they weren't well off. They were more of a misguided youth gang if anything. "Where are your parents?"

"We don't need no parents." One of the younger ones proudly stated. Crenshaw noticed what appeared to be the oldest male staring at Elizabeth. He knew at look and he didn't like it at all.

"Listen what do you kids want, we're kind of in a hurry." Booker replied, not interested in the group in front of them at all.

Elizabeth turned her back to the kids and faced Alistair. She lightly touched his bloody arms. "Are you all right? I was scared when the crows attacked you."

Crenshaw wiggled his fingers and moved his arm around. "It stings, but I'm just glad they didn't pull out any tendons."

"We can try and clean you up when we get the chance." Elizabeth replied.

The girl caring and Crenshaw appreciated it. He felt he hadn't seen general concern in quite a while. He had noticed the conversation between DeWitt and the kids had become heated.

"We just want to come with and help you take down Comstock!" Exclaimed one of the group.

DeWitt shook his head, "I have no interest in killing Comstock, I'm just trying to get the hell out of this city."

"But you're the False Shepherd!"

"Stop calling me that. You shouldn't even be out here, it's not exactly safe."

Crenshaw decided to step forward seeing the conversation wasn't progressing. "Listen, we appreciated your help, we mean it, but this isn't your fight. We don't need anyone else getting hurt. Fighting isn't as romantic as it's made out to be." When he said this he raised his bloody arms as a form of proof. Two of the girls in the group cringed and looked away. One of the boys, the oldest one who was checking out Elizabeth, stepped forward.

"Just because you're not man enough for a fight doesn't mean we aren't. Maybe that girl doesn't want to be around a guy like you." He looked at Elizabeth, "Come on sweetheart, come with us."

Elizabeth scoffed and crossed her arms, "I am not your sweetheart."

"You kids have to go. Now." DeWitt stated, he was getting to the end of his patience.

The eldest turned to Booker and pointed a finger in his face. "We were wrong about you, the real False Shepherd would want to kill Comstock and turn this city around." That's when Crenshaw realized that these kids idolized the icon for a different reason. They hated Comstock for the lives they lived in Columbia, and blamed him for it. The Shepherd wasn't a demon, but a savior.

"I've killed enough people, I don't need to kill more."

"That's what makes you weak! I've killed and it's what drives me, what keeps me alive." He shoved past DeWitt and grabbed Elizabeth's arm. "That's why I'm better then these two."

Without a word, Elizabeth slapped the boy across the face. His group gasped waited for his response. The nineteen year old turned back, angry and confused, as if Elizabeth would believe his delusion. He opened his mouth and raised a hand, that's all Crenshaw needed to see. He kicked out the boy's legs and put him to the ground. He put his foot on his chest and leaned down.

"Being tough isn't about killing people. Maybe when you grow up you'll understand that. And if you ever raise your hand to another woman I will not hesitate to burn you alive and watch as you roll on the ground in agony. Do I make myself clear?"

The boy mumbled under his breath and eventually agreed. Crenshaw removed his foot and let the boy up. He waved to his gang for them to move. The two youngest looking appeared to protest but sadly agreed. The eldest flipped the trio off as they walked off. Booker let out a sigh and put his hand to his face.

"Anyone want to let me know what exactly that was all about?" Crenshaw asked.

"Those kids apparently created a gang about worshipping the False Shepherd. It looks like I disappointed them."

"You don't make a very good religious icon." Alistair quipped.

"Maybe in a different life I would be."

The trio walked into what appeared to be a restaurant of some sort. Elizabeth gasped and put a hand to her mouth. Corpses were strewn in various spots, completely mutilated. Tables were turned over and blood painted the walls. Bodies were still in seats as if they were still waiting to be served, others dropped to the floor.

"Who is the Prophet?" Crenshaw stopped as a female voice on the radio began to speak. "What you witnessed today, brothers and sisters, was just the beginning. Zachary Comstock will hear our voice."

"I assume that's Fitzroy." Crenshaw said aloud. Booker looked at him questioningly. "She leads the Vox Populi, a sort of freedom fighting group against the Founders', represent the common folk. Ever since I've arrived in Columbia I've heard plenty of them."

"Well they definitely mean business," DeWitt replied, moving a body to grab some ammo. He tossed two carbine clips and several shells to Crenshaw. The group split in different directions to examine parts of the room. Alistair grabbed a bag of Silver Eagles from the bar and pocketed them. He noticed a bloodstain on the ground that appeared a body was dragged. He kicked open the doors and sighed.

"Christ," A police officer's corpse was lying on a island table in the middle of the room. A knife pinned his cap to the surface. Blood was still dripping off the body onto the ground, creating a pool. He felt sympathetic to the officer, he was doing his job most likely. He also realized most of these men wanted him dead, so his heart wasn't exactly going out to the dead man. Elizabeth walked in behind him and cringed slightly.

"This is all so horrible," She stated.

"The poor girl just gets out of her tower and this is the kind of shit she sees." Crenshaw thought to himself.

"I found a health kit for you, and there is a sink for you to wash up at." She handed him the red bottle and pointed to the sink at the corner of the room. Alistair thanked the girl and drank the liquid. He pushed his already rolled up sleeves up further and approached the sink. He turned on the water and stuck his hands under the water. He ignored the pain and tried to clean the wounds. Elizabeth approached him and put her hands in the sink as well. She began to try and wash the blood from his skin. His hands were gentle and caring, she wanted to take care of him. She held his hand momentarily as she examined his arms.

"Alistair… you have a lot of scars. What have you been through?" Her voice held a hint of sympathy.

"I've been to Hell and back, it's not pretty, but frankly neither am I." Alistair joked. When he saw that Elizabeth wasn't amused he became serious. "Don't worry about it Elizabeth, it's nothing you have to concern yourself with."

She dried her hands off and looked at him. Elizabeth ran her hand down the scar Crenshaw had on his face. She held it in place and caressed the old wound. "Your poor body…" She trailed off. She thought of the stories she read in her tower. The ones of wounded heroes, of brave men.

Crenshaw slowly brought his hand to hers, holding it. Her hand was much smaller, much cleaner and smoother. He saw the thimble on her pinky and couldn't help but think of it again. "You look like you've had your fair share of battle wounds as well."

Elizabeth smiled and looked at her hand in his. "My finger seems a lot less exciting, I honestly don't know what happened to it. I guess I can make a story up for it." They stood in silence, thinking about each other but saying nothing.

DeWitt cleared his throat as he entered the room. Elizabeth jumped and Crenshaw slowly turned. He's been caught in enough potentially awkward situations in his life that he had no reason to jump because of it. Booker had his sights on a device hung up on a cabinet with a knife. The contraption was a Voxophone, a piece of Columbian technology that allowed individuals to record there voice to be played back at a later point in time. DeWitt pulled it down and played it aloud.

Crenshaw examined it, appeared to be the property of the deceased police officer. "Got a tip that there were hidden guns in the Fellow Traveler, didn't find nothing." A male voice emitted from the device. "Funny thing though, found some old uniforms under the floorboards from the war. We took guesses as to what…"

Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening. Angry male voices began shouting as bullets went off. Dead silence filled the recording. A new man's voice came on, a tough, salty voice. "Here that Comstock? That is the sound you have never heard, the sound of men dying. If you truly think you are man enough to face me, you will find me in your _Hall of Heroes_." The man put a emphasis on the last words, as if making fun of it.

"Slate…" DeWitt said.

"So that is Slate." Crenshaw replied.

"Who?" Elizabeth was left in the dark while the two men were thinking of the Captain.

"I actually knew the guy," DeWitt started. "Looks like he still has a knack for making enemies."

"Well we may be having a little reunion with him then." The group walked outside.

They approached a gondola station that would be the route to the Hall of Heroes. Several cargo containers blocked the path, but DeWitt pulled a lever that made them slowly move along the skyline.

"This is going to be fantastic." Elizabeth said, brandishing a skyhook.

"Where did she...? Nevermind." Crenshaw thought to himself. He looked at his skyhook and then at the rail. "So how exactly does this work?"

Booker looked back at the bounty hunter. "You're telling me you've only killed people with it, never rode with it?"

"Well... Yea. Never had the chance. And when I saw you slice that cop's face open at the Fair in front of all those people I figured it'd be a good weapon."

Booker shot Alistair a look and motioned to Elizabeth, as if she shouldn't know. Luckily she was too busy being excited for the skyline to pay attention. Crenshaw smiled at her child-like wonder and walked towards the rail. "Well, here goes nothing." Crenshaw took a running start and extend the hook. As soon as he jumped it felt as if the skyhook pulled him to the rail like a magnet. Alistair pulled the trigger to the throttle and he took off. He couldn't help but laugh a little as he soared through the air. He held onto his flat cap as the wind whipped past his face. In the distance was a large white building. A massive sign in bold letters said 'Hall of Heroes'. A statue of Columbia, the female interpretation of patriotism was in front of the building standing proudly. As he got closer, Crenshaw noticed the marble statue had been defaced with paint, making it look like a clown of some sort. A cadence was playing over speakers, adding to the military feel.

He detached the skyhook and landed on the ground into a roll. DeWitt and Elizabeth landed near him and they looked at the building ahead of them. "Im interested to see what Comstock considers a hero," Crenshaw said. He turned to Booker, "and meeting your friend Slate."

The trio walked forward, guns out to be prepared. "Just because I served with him doesn't mean we were friends."

Alistair looked at the base of the statue, the words were vandalized to say 'Hall of Whores'. Someone definitely did not appreciate this place.

Crenshaw noticed a glare on a balcony of the Hall. He could be wrong but he wasn't taking any chances. "Shit! Sniper, get down!" He dove to the ground, dragging Elizabeth and Booker with him. A loud crack filled the air, a bullet smacked into the ground where they once stood.

Crenshaw took out his carbine and pressed himself tightly to the Columbia statute. Elizabeth and Booker followed suit and jumped behind cover. Elizabeth grabbed a sniper rifle leaning up against the statue, "Mr DeWitt, catch!"

DeWitt caught the rifle and checked the ammo. "Much appreciated."

"DeWitt, there's one on the top story balcony, you see him? I can try and get him with my rifle but I can't guarantee a kill, but it may injure him."

"Keep his ass down while I adjust my sights, when you stop I'll get him."

Crenshaw nodded and began firing up at the hostile. The sniper ducked immediately as bullets zipped past him, debris filling the air as walls were ripped apart. "Lined up?"

"I'm set," DeWitt replied. Crenshaw ducked and reloaded his rifle. He heard two shots fire, Booker only got one round off. Alistair peered over to DeWitt. He wasn't bleeding, but it looked like had the wind knocked out of him. "He's dead, managed to get a round off. My shield took all of it."

"Thank God for these shields." Crenshaw stated.

"I don't think this has much to do with God, maybe science."

Crenshaw popped his head up to take a look at his surrounding. There was a large set of double doors in the distance. Another man with a sniper rifle exited the doors and lined up his sights with the trio. "We have another one," Crenshaw stated.

"I see him." DeWitt took a deep breath and then came out of cover. Just as quickly as he went up, Booker was struck down by a sniper bullet. He fell backwards and hit the ground.

"Shit, DeWitt! You alright?" Crenshaw ran between cover and crouched down next to DeWitt. He was holding his right arm near the bicep. Blood was pouring through his fingers.

"I'll be fine, but I can't use the sniper until I get patched up." He replied, gritting his teeth from the pain.

"Elizabeth, can you help him out?"

"I don't have a health kit, I could search for one,"

"Well be careful, the last thing I want is for you to be shot also." He tossed DeWitt his shotgun and picked up the sniper rifle. "You know what to do if anyone gets close."

"Time to do what I do best," Crenshaw thought to himself. He began firing several rounds from his carbine hoping to keep their heads down. Sliding to cover, he immediately prepared the sniper rifle. He saw two men, one of them must have hit Booker because he didn't see them. Alistair stood up and fired a powerful Sonic Boom in the direction of one of the snipers, giving him time to lock into the other. Once he had the soldier's head in the sights he breathed and pulled the trigger, resulting in a red explosion as blood shot up from the stump of a neck. He spun to face the second gunner, who had been phased by the remnants of the vigor. He aimed for the head, making contact with ease.

Behind him Alistair heard the familiar screech of crows. He dropped the sniper to aim the carbine, prepared for a closer range. A soldier began screaming and swatting at a pack of crows. Crenshaw realized DeWitt had covered his back, he would remember that. He put two rounds in the man's chest and noticed two soldiers charging his position. He used the Bucking Bronco, resulting in easy flying targets. With that he finished the two off and examined the area.

"Anyone else want to try and kill me?" There was silence, the eerie silence that only takes place after a fire fight. "No takers? Good." Crenshaw looted a body for ammo and walked to his last location. Elizabeth was bent down bandaging Booker's arm.

DeWitt looked up at Crenshaw from the ground. "Good job."

"Appreciate it. Thanks for covering my ass." Crenshaw passed the sniper back to Booker and took his shotgun.

Elizabeth and DeWitt stood up. Booker briefly touched his injured arm and then nodded to the girl. The trio walked towards the Hall, hoping the situation would improve. "I was thinking," The Pinkerton started, "maybe using those tears of yours would be useful next time we get in a fight."

Crenshaw and Elizabeth exchanged quick smiles, seeing DeWitt's quickly changed beliefs. "Ye of little faith, how swiftly you change your foolish ideas." Alistair joked.

"You know I can't just pull them out of thin air," Elizabeth said, making sure Booker didn't have time to respond. "They have to appear. But if I see one I'll make sure to tell you."

They were now before the double doors leading to the Hall. They were solid wood, defaced with red paint spelling out 'TIN SOLDIERS'. Crenshaw had his shotgun at the ready. He gave a nod to his companions before opening the door. "Lets hope they play nice..."


	6. Chapter VI

**Chapter VI: The Hall**

"They couldn't have gotten far, the fire fight just happened outside."

"Captain Slate said that those tin soldiers would be coming for us, but these tinnies must be tough if they killed Rodgers and his group out there."

"Must be a whole group of them, at least ten of their strongest men, but they're going to need more then that to take down Captain Slate." Two of Slate's soldiers entered the Hall, tense from the scene they discovered outside. Some of their best men were killed in what must have been a glorious battle. The snipers who killed them worked with precision, and must have been elite soldiers.

One of the two held up a hand to motion a stop. He pointed to a room down the hall, where it appeared someone was rustling through things to find something. Their boots tapped across the tile floor as they neared the room.

"Evenin' gents." A male voice caught them by surprise. They both whipped around to find the source. A white male with a flat cap and bloody dress shirt and vest was leaning on an open counter, which had a knifed corpse. The man held a shotgun pointed at them, and immediately fired, knocking both of the soldiers backwards and to the ground. The man hopped the counter and kneeled down, examining the two. One of the soldiers was still alive, coughing on his own blood.

"I'm sorry, I was hoping it would be painless. You've done your job."

"Wh-who are you?" The soldier managed to say. "Did you kill my fellow soldiers outside?"

"Your friends shot at my friends first. If it makes you feel any better, they fought well." Then man strapped the shotgun to his back and withdrew a handgun.

"You…you are a true soldier if you were able to kill them."

The man looked down briefly at the comment from the dying soldier. The words struck him, he was thinking. He looked up and into the other's eyes. He placed the handgun to his head. Before he could pull the trigger, the soldier's head slowly fell, his eyes lifeless. The man sighed and closed the soldier's eyes. He put away his pistol and stood up. "We're all clear."

"Crenshaw you're a cynical bastard, you know that right?" Booker DeWitt stated as he picked up a Voxophone in the other room.

"You have no room to judge, DeWitt." Alistair Crenshaw hopped back over the counter and leaned up against it. Elizabeth walked closer to him while Booker fiddled with the device. She placed her hand on the bounty hunter's arm.

"Are you OK? You seem… it seems like that man's words got to you."

Crenshaw hesitated to answer at first, and then turned to her. "Just made me think. I served in Army, I know what it's like to be in their shoes." DeWitt looked up at Alistair, half tempted to make a comment but then swallowed it and pressed play on the Voxophone. A voice crackled as the device turned on, it was the same male voice that previously was on the Voxophone they found on a dead police officer.

"They'll call us assassins when our work is done. Cornelius Slate, the swift left hook of the Vox Populi. If it means trading Comstock's life for a new one, so be it. The Fitzroy woman and I are comrades of necessity. With Comstock gone, my men's past deeds will be sacred, and they will claim the spoils to them. I need not live to see it."

The recording ended and the group exchanged looks. "Well I guess we can confirm your pal is working with the Vox, which makes sense because of their shared vendettas against Comstock." Crenshaw stated. They exited the room and began walking.

"Did you notice that these soldier's uniforms are different?" Elizabeth asked. "They're a lot more…"

"Theatrical?" Crenshaw suggested. These uniforms had a Columbian banner on the shoulder, and it was very classic when compared to modern uniforms. This was the distinctive quality between Slate's men and Comstock's. Elizabeth nodded and bent down to pick up a lantern. She shined it into a room as they entered it. All the lights were off, and it was hard to make out anything.

They approached the figure of a statue, and a large one at that to compliment the room size. Elizabeth shined the light on the base of the statue, which held a plaque. "Our Prophet, Father Comstock, Commander of the 7th Calvary." She read aloud.

"That man did not lead the 7th. Hell, I don't even remember the guy." Booker replied. Crenshaw looked at him, he now knew where he served. But what battle?

A loudspeaker gave feedback as it turned on overhead and lights illuminated Comstock's statue. Alistair pointed his carbine above as if enemies would rain down. "Corporal DeWitt." Said the voice. It was Captain Slate, they had heard him enough that Crenshaw could recognize the voice. "He proved his worth on the field that day."

"Well I'll be," DeWitt said to himself in disbelief. He looked up and raised his voice, "Slate? Is that you?"

"You've always been different, haven't you Booker? You crave no glory."

DeWitt put out a hand as if to reason with the voice. "Look I see you're in a bit of a jam. If you could see fit to let us through to where they keep this Shock Jockey…"

"Why in a rush Booker? You're amongst soldiers. Your people. I see you have already brought one along with you." Slate's comment caught Crenshaw by surprise. How did Slate know who he was? Was everyone aware who the 'famous' bounty hunter was?

"Captain, I'd rather be meeting you in person," Alistair said, still cautious.

"Sergeant, you've chosen interesting company with DeWitt. You two know how to fight, you're naturals at the sport." Alistair and Booker looked at each other, already knowing each other's abilities. "That tin soldier, Comstock, wants my boys dead. We won't die a his hands!"

The lights suddenly went out and the audio cut. The men readied their weapons. "Shit. There's going to be trouble."

"Thanks for the observation there P.I." Crenshaw replied.

The speakers crackled to life once more. "All my men have is a choice: die at the hands of a in soldier, or a real one!" Two sets of double doors suddenly popped open as two men from each set ran out with machine guns. Alistair immediately opened fire on the targets, exchanging blows as rounds hit their respective targets. Unlike Crenshaw, these men did not have shields and immediately fell. They squirmed for pistols as they tried to kill even in their final moments. Alistair put one more round in each soldier to ensure their demise.

DeWitt had thrown a Devil's Kiss at his enemies, which made short work of them once he fire several rounds into the burning targets. The fight was over as quick as it had begun.

"You see? You see? You're a pair of killers whether you like it or not!" Slate hollered over the loudspeaker.

"Dammit Slate just give us the Shock Jockey." Crenshaw shouted back.

"If you want the vigor, Alistair, you will give my men a soldier's death. They wait for you at Wounded Knee and Peking." The speaker cut out a final time as the room was filled with lights. Other statues were displayed in the room, red paint splattered over them.

"Can't anything ever just be easy? Like if we came here and the vigor was conveniently for sale or something? Or he just handed it over?" Crenshaw asked to no one in particular. He ejected his empty magazine to the ground and placed a new one in his carbine.

"Where did you serve?" DeWitt asked, choosing not to respond to Crenshaw's original question.

"Well you just jumped to the point don't you?" Alistair snickered. "I was overseas. The Moro Rebellions. The brutal part was never the fighting, the brutal part was the boat rides."

"Did you see combat?"

"DeWitt I'm not really keen on swapping war stories right now, I'm sure you're interested, but maybe some other time." Booker was surprised by how short Crenshaw was in his response, and how quickly he changed from a lighter attitude to a serious one. He dropped the topic and they exited the welcoming room.

The trio entered the main exhibit, which was a lobby leading to three main paths. On the left was the Boxer Rebellion, on the right was Wounded Knee. Neither were particularly bright points in the United States' recent history. A round information board sat in the middle of the room. Several corpses littered the lobby, they were dressed as civilians and armed. Crenshaw assumed these bodies were of Comstock's men.

Elizabeth approached the information board and peered at it, her gaze showing interest in it. "This is odd." She said, curiosity in her voice.

"What's odd?" Crenshaw came up behind her and examined the timeline that was on the billboard, stating 'History of Columbia.'

"According to this timeline, and if my math is correct, it claims Comstock is only… thirty nine years old."

Crenshaw snorted at this, there was no way. "Bull shit, no one looks that old at thirty nine." He turned to DeWitt, "I mean, you have to be in your upper thirties right? So either he didn't age well at all or these guys are just pulling our leg."

"So where do we start?" Elizabeth asked, motioning to the two available paths.

"I guess we can go in historical order, starting with Wounded Knee." Crenshaw stated. Booker opened his mouth, but hesitated. "That alright with you DeWitt?"

Booker looked down at his machine gun and walked forward. "Let's just get this over with." Crenshaw followed close behind, Elizabeth by his side.

Loud noises immediately filled the area, red-flashing lights bathing the trio. Cardboard cut outs of viscous Native Americans with headdresses and tomahawks popped out of the scenery. Elizabeth let out a small yelp in surprise as one came out directly in front of her. The sky appeared to be on fire, teepees and tall grass made up most of the hallway. The chanting and yelling of harsh Native voices grew louder as they proceeded further down the hall.

"The tin soldiers are taking credit for the deeds of the real ones," The loud speaker blared.

A large statue depicted two Native American warriors standing over a screaming woman, preparing to scalp her. Down the path was another statue, this time of a native Brave triumphantly holding up a fresh scalp. Elizabeth cringed and held tightly onto her lantern. "This place… how could anyone stand to be here? How could this have happened?"

The loudspeaker crackled to life once more. "Wounded Knee was the grounds of a warrior. You see young lady, your companion wrapped himself in glory on December 29, eighteen-hundred and ninety." Slate was obviously talking about Booker. Crenshaw looked at the Pinkerton, whose gaze was steadily forward, un-wavered by seeing the carnage depicted in the exhibit. Crenshaw immediately knew that DeWitt had served in at Wounded Knee, he had been a part of the massacre that claimed so many lives.

"He couldn't have been that old during the battle, there is no way." Alistair thought to himself.

"What does he mean?'' Elizabeth asked, looking between both her male companions.

"You don't want to know." DeWitt calmly responded.

The trio came closer to the second statue, taking a second to look at it. They entered a new, larger room that had a statue of Comstock triumphantly holding a sword. Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed on Booker, searching for something in his features. "You were there, at Wounded Knee, I can see it on your face." She seemed slightly flabbergasted by her own revelation.

"Tell her Booker! Tell her how we strode onto the battlefield like heroes of Sparta!" Slate's voice yelled overhead. "I still hear the screams…does Comstock?"

New shouts filled the room, except these were of life men with the intent to kill the trio. "Here are the soldiers I spoke of! The kind of men Comstock pretends to be! See if I told you true!" Slate's roaring came to an end as the loudspeaker screeched.

"C'mon tinnies!" One of the soldiers shouted. Crenshaw immediately used Bucking Bronco on the charging group, causing only two of them to float in the air. Booker began firing at a group on the opposite end of the exhibit.

"You asked for it!" Crenshaw shouted. He shot the two soldiers out of the air and crouched to a knee, still firing his carbine. He rolled as bullets kicked up debris from the floor. Blood sprayed on Alistair's face as a bullet tore open a soldier's throat, the arteries spewing blood everywhere.

As he was about to pull the trigger once again, the rifle made a dreaded empty click. Crenshaw cursed to himself. The soldier rapidly fired his machine gun ad Alistair, his shields taking the bullets. The bounty hunter extended his left arm and fired off a powerful Sonic Boom, lifting the man off his feet and throwing him back several meters. Crenshaw reloaded his carbine and took out his shotgun. He fired a shell into the downed soldier.

It felt as if he was being punched in the back, more bullets were tearing apart his shield, and then it shattered. He spun and fired off two shells from his shotgun, a pair was caught by the buckshot, but not killed. Crenshaw ran towards the two, skyhook in hand. He slashed one man across the chest, causing him to fall down in pain. He dug the spinning blade deep into the second soldier's chest and revved the blade further. The soldier's eyes rolled back into his head as blood flowed out of his mouth and wound.

Alistair was suddenly grabbed around the neck from behind. He spotted a knife coming from his right. The first soldier had gotten up and took the opportunity while Crenshaw was killing his comrade. Alistair was pulled back and let go of the skyhook due to it being lodged in a corpse. He blocked the incoming knife with his right hand, struggling to keep it from plunging into his body. Crenshaw smashed his head backwards, head-butting the soldier in the nose, instantly breaking his nose. The soldier released his grip and Crenshaw spun around. He broke the soldier's arm with a strike to the elbow and grabbed the knife. He dug it into his opponent's eye and pushed him to the ground. He swirled the blade and stomped on the handle. The soldier lay on the ground motionless in a pool of his own blood. He made sure to grab his skyhook before getting back into the fight

Booker was in a battle with a soldier using the Murder of Crows Vigor. The two kept exchanging birds, missing on both sides. Crenshaw swirled a Devil's Kiss in his left hand and threw it at the unsuspecting soldier. He immediately burst into flames and attempted to put out the fire. Booker sprayed the Crow Soldier with his machine, finally killing him. Crenshaw and DeWitt looked around, expecting more.

The familiar screech of the loudspeaker crackled to life above them. "You did them a favor. You let them die like men."

"I didn't ask for this! I have no quarrel with this men!" Booker shouted back to Slate.

"Heroes never ask…"

"I never claimed to be no hero!"

"Then what are you? If you take away all the parts of Booker DeWitt you tried to erase, what do you find? Come back to the rotunda, and go to the Boxers."

"Well I don't know what is worse, the Boxer Rebellion or Wounded Knee." Crenshaw asked rhetorically.

"I can't speak for the Rebellion." Booker replied.

"So you did kill… all those people." Elizabeth said, regarding DeWitt's past at Wounded Knee.

"The less you know about me the better, you discover things like this otherwise."

"H-how… how could you?" The girl's question wasn't in disgust, but a genuine question.

Booker grew irritated, raising his voice. "It happened, I killed them, it's done. I wasn't the only one, but we did it."

"Don't get snippy with her DeWitt, she was asking a question, she didn't mean anything by it." Crenshaw replied, putting himself in between Booker and the girl.

"Crenshaw you can't possibly know what happens out there, the kind of chaos that happens. Killing like this can't be compared."

Alistair felt his anger boiling, he jabbed a finger in DeWitt's face. "I don't know chaos? Go fuck yourself DeWitt, I've been in too many of those situations, and I know exactly what it's like. But you slaughtered people, unarmed women and children who did nothing to you. I'm far from perfect, but you're something else."

Crenshaw didn't prepare himself for what happened next. DeWitt gave a strong right hook to Alistair's jaw, he felt the impact and he dropped to the ground. He was slightly dazed, it was a big blow. DeWitt shook his hand, his fist stinging from the hit.

Elizabeth gasped, "Booker!" She raised her voice, trying to calm down the Pinkerton. Crenshaw got to his feet and rubbed his chin.

"Good to know you could hit people that could fight back too." Alistair charged the Pinkerton and dove to the ground, taking out his legs.

"Stop it you two!" Elizabeth's concern went unnoticed as the two men continuously punched each other as they rolled around on the ground. Each ignored the pain as each hit impacted. Booker got on top of Crenshaw, but the bounty hunter delivered an elbow to his face, causing him to roll off. Alistair got up and backed away, attempting to regain some control of the situation.

Even though the two had guns and Vigors, neither of them used the assets. This was purely out of built of testosterone, nothing to lead to killing one another. Booker quickly got to his feet, ready to fight. "C'mon old man, you're a fool for continuing this." Crenshaw shot off his mouth. Both were clearly winded, Alistair was just hoping his age would give him the upper hand.

Booker said nothing as he closed the gap between Crenshaw. The two each readied a punch and swung. Before making contact, two teepees crashed down on the men. They became tangled in cloth and sticks and attempted to make their way out. Alistair got out first, flat on his back.

"What the hell was that?" He wondered aloud, taking a deep breath from the fight. He found Elizabeth standing near his head, arms crossed.

"You two are children, I had enough of your fighting."

"So you dropped teepees on us?" Alistair asked. It then clicked that she must have made them appear with her powers, understanding that she could truly pull anything out of thin air. "You found a tear." He said, slightly in awe. Elizabeth shook her head, still not pleased with her male companions. Booker got up and wiped himself off. Crenshaw stood up and spit blood onto the ground. The two men looked at each other, not a single word exchanged.

"Are you two going to act like this until we get out of here? You need to work together to get the Shock Jockey." Elizabeth was trying to maintain some sort of order between the two warriors. DeWitt scoffed and began to walk to the door, machine gun out.

"DeWitt!" Crenshaw called out. The Pinkerton stopped, but didn't turn around. "Just keep in mind you're not the only one who's been up shit creek without a paddle." He was talking about war, trying to make DeWitt know that he understood what he went through. Booker looked down but then walked out the door.

Crenshaw sighed and wiped some blood from his mouth. "Let's get going." He solemnly said to Elizabeth. The girl didn't reply but followed him out of the Wounded Knee exhibit. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Liz." Crenshaw didn't expect a response from her; he was just speaking his mind.

"Don't apologize, just please don't let it happen again. You're the only two I know I can rely on, if something happens to one of you or both of you I don't know what I'd do." Elizabeth's sincerity always struck Crenshaw.

"We're not exactly setting the best example. It's a male thing I guess. He's not alone, I've seen some messed up shit also, I guess I just didn't get my point across well enough." Crenshaw smiled in his usual joking manner, trying to make Elizabeth believe everything was all right now. The girl took out a small handkerchief and wiped Alistair's mouth

"Is that how you got those scars? Your war?" She reflected back to the conversation they had only a couple minutes ago, even though it felt like an eternity.

"Some of them, yes. The life of a soldier isn't a glorious one. Neither is a bounty hunter. I've never been that good at staying safe."

"Well could you please stay safe for me? That's all I ask." The sound of bullets made Elizabeth and Alistair rush to catch up with Booker. DeWitt was standing in front of two bodies, his machine gun smoking.

"You alright DeWitt?" Crenshaw asked. Booker looked back, not saying a word. He walked into the rotunda. "C'mon Booker don't play that game."

"I'm not playing a game, just trying to get outta here." Booker's voice didn't contain the slightest hint of any emotion.

A large wooden banner held the words 'The Boxer Rebellion'. The scenery was snowy, with stereotypical Chinese huts. Red paper lanterns hung and shined dimly. The walls and ceiling portrayed a starry night. Just as before, cardboard cut outs jumped from various locations, this time they were Asian. The skin was yellow; they had long nails, and wide grins.

"What is this?" Elizabeth asked, cautiously standing in between the two males.

"It's the Boxer Rebellion."

"And what happened there?"

"In Peking?" Slate's voice came from above. "It was my hand that put the city to the torch. Of course, that's not how Comstock tells it…"

More Chinese cutouts popped up, making various noises. Fake fires 'burned' in various locations throughout the exhibit. The trio reached a statue; a Chinese man decapitated a woman with a sword, raising a hand while doing so. Further ahead, legions of cardboard Chinese men had raised swords and were pointing towards the door, as if they were to assault the location. Crenshaw took point and opened the door.

A robot statue of George Washington stood triumphantly, a lever was on a podium in front of him. Alistair pulled the lever and watched as the robot lit up. "Twas yellow skin and slanted eyes that did betray us with their lies. Until they crossed the righteous path of our Prophet's Holy Wrath" The robot recited.

"That was blatant." Crenshaw thought to himself, a remark to the 'yellow skin'.

Booker opened the next door. Elizabeth entered after, still holding onto her lantern. The room was filled with armed Chinese cut outs, all pointing in one direction. A statue of a fallen Comstock was on one end of the room, a painting of Lady Columbia flying above him.

"Oh, I read about this… Comstock led the Columbian troops to Peking and…" Elizabeth began.

Slates voice boomed from the loudspeaker once more, anger oozing out of each word. "Comstock wasn't there! The Boxers took my eye and thirty of my friends! Is there even a stone to mark their sacrifice!?" The speaker shut offnd there was an eerie silence

"More soldiers!" Booker shouted. Crenshaw heard a muffled voice and a high pitched whirring noise. Up on a artificial hill, a man in some kind of padded and metal exoskeleton thrust his arms to the side and flames began to absorb him.

"What the hell is that?" Crenshaw shouted. He fired several carbine rounds as the man, but they appeared to have no effect. In response, the flaming man threw a Devil's Kiss. Alistair dove out of the way as the explosive magma landed where he stood.

"It's a fireman! Watch your ass, he can control those flames!" Booker replied.

"Well I found that much out!" The fireman threw another ball of fire at Alistair, but he was prepared this time. He shot a Sonic Boom at the Vigor, sending it soaring back to its originator. It hit the man and exploded, but appeared to have no real effect. However, it caught several nearby soldiers in fire.

"Mr. Crenshaw, catch!" Elizabeth threw a blue bottle of salts towards Alistair, who grabbed it and drank the contents immediately. He charged the hill to get a better shot, keeping enough distance so he wouldn't get trapped with the fireman.

"Righteous fury!" The fireman shouted before throwing another throwing another Kiss. Crenshaw fired a shotgun shell at the flying ball, causing it to explode before it got close to him. He used Bucking Bronco to make the fireman hover, and then proceeded to walk towards him while firing his shotgun. After several shells made impact the man screamed in agony.

Crenshaw was only several feet away from the fireman at this point. A screeching whine began to emit from the fireman's suit, steam coming from his back. Alistair fired another shell at the enemy, assuming it would kill him. Upon impact, the fireman exploded in a blaze that consumed both him and Alistair. The bounty hunter was sent back soaring from the explosion; he felt the heat on his skin. He hit a wall, slightly disoriented. His ears were ringing and vision was swimming.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Crenshaw thought to himself. He was not used to fighting inhuman forces. He was looking like a fool in his first fight. People feared him as a bounty hunter and he was getting his ass handed to him. He attempted to stand up, but two soldiers charged him, armed with clubs. Crenshaw managed to kill one with his shotgun, but he ran out of ammo before he could kill the second. Still dazed, he barely managed to avoid the first strike.

Alistair went for his handgun, but the club came down on his head. He dropped to the ground, vision growing increasingly dark. He heard Elizabeth shout his name in the distance. He saw the soldier stand above him, getting ready to strike again. A bullet entered his head, spilling blood onto Crenshaw. He was losing vision quickly, his hearing as well. Elizabeth reached him and frantically pulled out a medical kit. She flicked a syringe before injecting him with an unknown fluid.

Alistair's sense came back to him as Booker crouched down in front of him. "Do me a favor, don't be a dumb ass." DeWitt commented. "Running into an explosion isn't a good thing."

Crenshaw felt his strength come back to him, he looked at the Pinkerton. "I'll remember that, thank you."


	7. Chapter VII

Chapter VII: Old Comrades

"Do you trust him?" Booker DeWitt turned to Elizabeth, his voice was quiet.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth's response was not as hushed, not quite getting the point. Alistair was ahead of the two, taking point. He would occasionally crack a bone or stretch while walking. Elizabeth was impressed he was still walking; his body had taken quite the beating. Even with the various healings, most normal people wouldn't want to move.

"Crenshaw, do you trust him?"

Elizabeth smiled and tilted her head slightly. "Well of course I do. Why wouldn't I? He's been helping us and…"

"Yes I know he's been helping us. But I can't help but shake the feeling that he's holding back, as if he isn't telling us the whole story." DeWitt kept his eyes on the bounty hunter, watching his every move.

"But wasn't he was sent here to help you rescue me though?" Elizabeth asked. DeWitt's lack of response concerned her, "Right?"

"That's what he said. Do I believe him? Not exactly. He's a bounty hunter, his motive is money and his job is killing."

"Mr. DeWitt…"

"Please call me Booker."

"Ok, Booker. I don't think you're giving Alistair enough credit. He's protected both of us without question. I think it has even gone past just a job. I hope."

"You hope? What is that supposed to…"

"Are you two ready or am I interrupting something?" Alistair asked, causing Booker and Elizabeth to quickly face him. He was standing in front of the door of the Lady Comstock memorial, the area Slate told them to go to next. When neither responded, he opened up the door. "I don't need you two gossiping right now," As they entered, a large portrait of Lady Comstock adorned the wall. Candles were lit as a vigil and scattered around each part of the floor.

The loudspeaker came to life above them. "You've seen what Comstock has done to my history." Slate stated. "Now see how he's rewritten his own."

The group gathered around the main picture of Lady Comstock. "Say what you want about Lady Comstock… the woman had an eye for fashion." Elizabeth said, staring at the blue dress in the picture.

"I'm sure she had someone choose that dress for her." Crenshaw commented. He walked away to observe the next room. Everything was bathed in a pinkish hue. Alistair descended a staircase carefully, still not completely recovered from the recent battle. The room was made to look like a garden. A statue of the First Lady raising her miracle child commanded attention in the center of the room. Fake rays of light illuminated the statue.

Crenshaw stumbled slightly, but Elizabeth was at his side. "I have you, don't worry." Her smile was warm, comforting.

"Thank you, sweetheart." He replied, accepting the help of the girl. Once they reached the bottom of the stair, Crenshaw stood without help and approached the statue, observing the plaques on its base.

"The seed of the Prophet lay in our Lady for but a single week." He read aloud. He turned to Elizabeth and Booker. "Talk about Miracle Child, huh?"

"Comstock had a child?" Elizabeth asked hesitantly. "But my books never mentioned anything about a child."

"That's quite an omission… don't imagine that was by accident." Booker replied. Elizabeth walked around the statue to read the rest.

"The Prophet's child took ill and our Lady prayed for the Prophet's heir day and night."

Crenshaw began to think to himself. Why would Comstock hide information from his Lamb? He was aware that Elizabeth was supposedly the Prophet's child, but did she know? Had he hidden that crucial fact from her? Using the handrail, Alistair walked up another set of stairs and opened the door to the next room. Another statue was placed, this time however, it was of the Prophet. He was approaching what appeared to be Elizabeth's tower, bearing a child.

Elizabeth walked up behind Crenshaw and gasped. "That's my tower…"

The three looked around as a voice came from the ceiling, however this time it was not of Slate. "Lo!" Bellowed the voice of Comstock. "While Daisy Fitzroy has murdered my beloved, she shall not take my child! She shall not come betwixt her and prophecy! The seed of the Prophet shall sit the thrown, and drown in flames the mountains of man!"

Elizabeth held her chest and looked and Booker, then Alistair. "Am I…am I…?"

Booker shot a look to Crenshaw and then back at Elizabeth. "You're Comstock's daughter." His voice held no indication of whether or not he had just figured out this information as well.

Elizabeth shook her head, refusing to believe the information. "I can't. No it can't be. I just… I can't."

Booker approached her slowly, a hand extended. "He wants you to follow in his footsteps." He voice was soothing, the first time Crenshaw had heard it like that.

The girl stomped her foot and threw her arms back. "Well I want a puppy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to get one!" She turned her back on her male companions and crossed her arms. Booker let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. Alistair motioned to him, as if saying the two should try and console her. Booker threw a hand in the air and shook his head. Crenshaw put out his hands, making a 'what?!' motion. He scoffed and DeWitt's lack of compassion and walked to Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth…" Alistair put his hand on the girl's shoulder lightly. "Listen Eli, I know this sucks. You can't wrap your head around how you're that bastard's child, frankly neither can I. Anything as lovely as you, it seems impossible to have come from him. But listen, just because some 'prophecy' says you're going to take his place doesn't mean anything. You're much more of a compassionate person then he is, what you do is up to you."

"There is a Latin quote I heard from a man one time when I roaming the country. _Faber est suae quisque fortunae. _I probably destroyed that, but it was close enough. It means 'every man is the architect of his own fortune'. No one is going to decide what you do, regardless if the man has some crazy-ass God given future telling powers." Crenshaw didn't really know if anything he said had helped. He wasn't exactly a great role model, but hopefully his way of words lead him somewhere in conversation.

Elizabeth quickly turned around and hugged Alistair tightly around his chest. He held his hands up, a look of shock on his face. He didn't quite know how to respond because he did not want to appear to be taking advantage of the girl's emotions. He hesitantly put his arms around her and stroked her hair. "Thank you." Was all she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"My pleasure, Elizabeth." The two released their embrace and smiled at each other. This girl was special, Crenshaw would make sure he got her out of the city, regardless if Booker helps. He just wished he could follow her off of Columbia, he had other things to take care of in the flying city.

Booker was standing by a door, a lock keeping it sealed. He opened his mouth to ask Elizabeth to open the path, but Alistair raised a hand in protest. He removed his handgun and fired a round at the lock, causing it to immediately fall to the ground.

"That works too." DeWitt said as he opened the door. The first thing they noticed was a statue of what could be assumed to be Daisy Fitzroy, the leader of the Vox Populi. In the distance was a sculpture of a kneeling Lady Comstock. Her body was bathed in light as she prayed.

They split up to search the area. Booker went left and Crenshaw and Elizabeth went right. Alistair saw a Voxophone resting on a chair, he immediately picked it up and played it. A soothing female voice responded, Lady Comstock. "To those who loved me, I was the most generous of souls. There was no pain I would deny them. No betrayal I would not gladly give. And when I had scorched the hearts of all who loved me, the Prophet said, 'There is nothing you can do for which I will not forgive you, for God has granted me sight, and through His eyes, even you are loved,'."

Crenshaw placed the machine back down and contemplated what was said before carrying on. DeWitt had already proceeded to a lower level and walked past a fountain. The two caught up with him before entering a new room.

The tone of this room was very different in comparison to the others. Half of the room was covered in flames as people fell into the fiery abyss. Comstock was hot on the heels of Fitzroy and the Vox, pointing his sword. Vicious opera like chanting was playing to set the mood. A large sign labeled 'Comstock's Vengeance' hung above the doorway across from the group.

The warm July air greeted the trio as they opened the door. They were now in a courtyard outside. "Nice to have some fresh air." Crenshaw commented. A gate blocked their path, but Elizabeth easily slid between the bars.

"You too are two broad to make it through, we can see if there is another way we can move forward." Elizabeth looked around as Alistair looked at the gate. He probably climb and jump over but he was in no condition for acrobatics. As he was contemplating how to get across, a noise brought him to attention. He looked up, what appeared to be construction material appeared before them. The coloring was off, as if it was other-worldly.

"Is that..?" Booker began, the amazement back in his voice.

"It's a tear, something I can bring into this world." Elizabeth stated triumphantly.

"Pretty convenient it happened to be a freight hook." Alistair commented, staring up at the hook at the top of the construction unit.

"As I said, it's a form of wish fulfillment."

Booker motioned to the girl. "Well, guess it's time to try it out. Do it." Elizabeth smiled, thinking Booker was more confident in her now. With a wave of her hands the freight hook appeared before them.

Alistair shook his head, "I don't think I'll ever get tired of that." He looked at the hook and pointed to it. "Please Booker, after you." The Pinkerton took a running start and held out his skyhook. The magnetically charged device quickly pulled him to the hook as he latched on. He dropped to the ground and motioned to Alistair. The bounty hunter nodded and jumped toward the hook, the wind rushed around him as he connected firmly.

"I feel there's more where that came from." Elizabeth called up. "Whenever I get anxious, tears have a way of appearing. Alistair do you see the tears? We can use them against Slate's men!"

"Nice thinking." Crenshaw examined the two glimmering tears in the area. One option was for more hooks to higher ground, the other for some cover and a turret. "Go for the turret!" He shouted. As quickly as the covered appeared, the hook he was hanging on disappeared. He landed on the ground with an 'umph'. Booker jumped down and ran behind the cover. Crenshaw put his back to the bannister on the second floor and withdrew his carbine.

Chaos erupted as bullets began to fly from both sides. The tear turret began to rip apart the unsuspecting soldiers while others dove for cover. A red light appeared on the other side of the courtyard as an enemy turret unleashed its machine gun. "Watch out! They have a turret!" Crenshaw shouted down to Booker.

"Cover me so I can capture it!" DeWitt called back up. Alistair carefully aimed his carbine and began picking off targets. Down below, Booker jumped out of cover briefly to send out a Possession vigor. Just as he released the power, the friendly turret near him exploded, causing him to cover his face. The vigor hit it's target and the now friendly turret began shooting the soldiers.

"Ammo for you!" Elizabeth shouted. Crenshaw turned and caught a magazine for his carbine out of the air. He stuffed it away and concentrated back on the fight. He saw two new enemies enter the courtyard. They had a crude metal as some sort of armor. On their shoulders were rocket launchers.

Crenshaw aimed for the head, but the bullet fell short and impacted on the man's shoulder. "Sonova bitch." One of the men fired a rocket towards the turret, causing it to explode. "DeWitt, rockets!" The other soldier found Crenshaw and fired a rocket in his direction. Alistair's eyes grew wide as the projectile hurdled towards him and Elizabeth. "Get down!" He shouted. He dove towards the girl and brought her to the ground. He covered her from the debris and shrapnel with his body as the explosive made impact with the bannister.

"Mr. Crenshaw, are you ok?!" Elizabeth asked frantically as the dust settled.

Alistair leaned to the side and spit. "Yes I'm just dandy, I should be asking you that." He got up and helped the girl as well. The handrail no longer provided any cover, seeing as it was completely destroyed. Crenshaw shrugged and jumped down to the ground floor.

Alistair saw DeWitt was in close combat with a soldier with a club, the Pinkerton drove his skyhook down on the man's neck and revved the blade. As he was running to cover, Crenshaw continued to precisely fire his rifle, each bullet hitting its target. He put it away as he got in close so he could use his shotgun. The bounty hunter charged the unsuspecting rocket soldier from behind and kicked out his knees. He put the shotgun to the soldier's head and pulled the trigger. Blood erupted in all directions, Alistair was careful not to get it covering his face.

One soldier was left; unfortunately for him he was carrying a club. Crenshaw smiled and extended his shotgun. The buckshot tore threw the soldier and he fell to the ground. Alistair reloaded his weapon and looked around, no one left. Booker approached Crenshaw, he dropped his sniper and picked up a rocket launcher. "Well, shall we move on?" Alistair asked as Elizabeth caught up with the two.

"Comstock's pet sure can do some nice tricks." Slate spoke over the intercom.

Crenshaw froze, sweat ran down his neck. Was Slate referring to him? Did he know Comstock hired him? He wasn't exactly following the job, but even if Booker and Elizabeth knew, trust could be thrown out the window. He needed them to complete his own job.

Luckily, DeWitt answered without contemplating the question. "We've had enough of this Slate. We just need the vigor so we could get out Columbia!"

"And we'll be getting it one way or another, you can count on that!" Crenshaw added in, playing along with DeWitt. The three walked up a flight of stairs and to a new doorway. The room greeted them with empty shelves displaying signs of Shock Jockey. Alistair let out a sigh, nothing in sight.

"Keep your eyes open for that vigor." DeWitt commented, not sounding very thrilled himself.

"We'll find it soon enough, I know we will." Elizabeth was being hopeful. The trio proceeded into a dark room. A desk was in the middle with cash registers, more shelves to the left and right.

"Wait," Crenshaw stopped for a second and turned to Elizabeth. "Why can't you just open a tear and bring out some Shock Jockey? You said it's like wish fulfillment right?"

"That's not exactly how it works…" Before Elizabeth could finish, she was cut off but a mechanized voice in the distance. One of the George Washington looking robots began speaking. Then another. And another. The room became unbearable as five robots began reciting their programed words. Elizabeth covered her ears and DeWitt and Crenshaw frantically looked around for some sort of switch.

"Turn off these damn Patriots!"

The voices came to an abrupt halt. Slate's voice came from the ceiling once more. "Tin men, that's exactly what Comstock will turn us into. Wires and gears! To replace heads and hearts!" A strange silence filled the room as Slate's loudspeaker cut off. A light appeared at the end of the room, illuminating a mechanized George Washington in a glass box. However, this one was different, it was carrying a large crank gun.

Booker slowly approached the mechanized Founding Father, holding his machine gun close to him. The robot looked at DeWitt and swung his weapon at the glass. "Shit! Get back!" DeWitt shouted as he dove for cover. The robot swung again, shattering the glass. It stepped out and immediately opened fire.

"Sonova bitch, this is absurd!" Crenshaw shouted. He had dove over the desk when the machine first came out. He stood up and threw a Devil's Kiss at it. Despite being on fire, the machine did not slow down, Alistair wasn't even sure if it did anything. A rocket came blaring from the right and impacted on the Patriot's side, causing it to momentarily stumble.

"Nice job DeWitt, but it ain't done yet!" Alistair shouted.

"Booker, aim for the gears!" Elizabeth made note of the large cog in the back of the machine that was most likely making it run. Dewitt adjusted his aim with the rocket launcher and fired another shot, making direct contact with the beast's gears. Like a display of fire works, the Patriot's head exploded. It fell to it's knees and the rest of the body shot sparks of electricity before finally collapsing.

Booker exited his cover and approached the metal corpse. "Well, glad that's over."

"See Booker, maybe you are the man I remember! Or maybe not. It doesn't matter. Comstock took away our stories and scrubbed away our souls. Now… he's coming for me. And when I'm gone… all that will be left will be this lie." Slate always knew when to start speaking.

"Just give us what we came for!" Booker yelled back, but it was too late, the speaker was already turned off. Booker let out a deep sigh.

"So… some Captain you had there." Crenshaw commented, resting his shotgun on his shoulder. DeWitt simply looked at the bounty hunter then shook his head.

"I think I found the storage for the vigor!" Elizabeth said, she was kneeling in front of a door, working with her lockpicks. The lock fell to the floor and she pushed the door open. Crenshaw entered first, peering into the dark room. On the ground was a corpse, next to it was an emptied Shock Jockey bottle, the purple liquid spread out on the floor.

"Well, I suppose we could lick it off the ground?" Crenshaw joked as he bent down to look at the bottle.

"Be my guest, I know I won't." Booker replied, not finding the humor in the words. He walked towards a crate and kicked off the top. "Damn, it's empty. The place has been ransacked. There ain't no Shock Jockey here."

The group walked back to the main room slowly, disappointment hanging over their heads. "Slate must have taken them." Elizabeth said, she stopped and looked at the ground, a trail of purple leading back the way they came. "Look!" Further into the room there were crystals on the ground conducting bolts of electricity. The crystals looked similar to the ones inside the machines powering some of Columbia.

"Is that…?"

"Must be Slate, he's here."

"As if this day couldn't get any better." Alistair sarcastically added. As the trio began walking towards the exit, a loud crashing noise filled the room. Crenshaw raised his shotgun and looked in all directions. He noticed a vent was open on the wall. He motioned to Booker and the two spread out, weapons at the ready. A Shock Jockey shelf had been turned over; Alistair assumed that is what caused the noise. He found it odd it would just fall, it was of solid build.

Booker got Crenshaw's attention and pointed to another shelf that had been separated from the wall slightly. It was a small gap, but out of place in comparison with the other shelves. The two approached it silently, weapons drawn. Elizabeth stayed back, not wanting to get in their way. Crenshaw grabbed the display case by a shelf and nodded to DeWitt.

With a violent pull the display case toppled and the two men pointed their guns at a figure on the ground. It was small a child covering their head. The child looked up, it was a boy with scraggily hair with dirt on his face. "Put down you guns!" Elizabeth said, as she pushed back the two men and crouched down with the boy. "He's just a child!"

DeWitt and Crenshaw looked at each other and shrugged. They put away their weapons and approached the young boy. As Alistair got closer he recognized the child as one of the members of the youth group they encountered earlier. The ones that worshipped the False Shepherd.

"What's your name?" Elizabeth asked sweetly. She gently pushed the hair out of the boy's eyes and smiled warmly.

"I'm… I'm Johnny." The boy sat up straight and looked at the two men standing above him.

"Well Johnny, what brings you here. You know this place is very dangerous right?" Alistair bent down next to Elizabeth. The boy was still scared, he wanted to comfort him. The boy reminded him of…

"I know, but I'm brave enough! Like the False Shepherd!" The boy's enthusiasm made Crenshaw laugh.

"I could see that, you managed to follow us all this way." Elizabeth looked at Crenshaw as he said this; she was impressed with how many sides he had.

"I came here to warn you." Johnny looked up at Booker. "The rest of the group, they went to warn the police that you were coming here! They were saying you were a phony!"

Crenshaw looked at DeWitt. "Some followers you have, you really pissed them off."

"Dammit we need to find that vigor and get the hell out of here." Booker turned his back on the others and began to walk towards the exit. "You coming?"

Alistair stood up and looked at Elizabeth, motioning for her to follow them. "What are you suggesting, I leave him here? He came all this way to warn us, I'm not going anywhere without him."

"Elizabeth." Booker was in no mood for games.

Crenshaw let out a deep breath and looked at Elizabeth. He understood that she wanted to bring the boy along, but the areas they would be going through would be a warzone. He couldn't handle having the child's death on his conscious, he already had too much hanging over him. Alistair looked at DeWitt, who threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, he could come with, but you have to keep him close and in cover."

"But mister, I can help!" The boy replied.

"I bet you can, bud. But you've already helped us out a lot. Just stay with Elizabeth and we'll get you back to your friends."

Crenshaw walked up to Booker. "Get ready, this isn't going to be easy." DeWitt commented.

"As if the rest of this has been?" DeWitt led the group back out to the courtyard. The corpses still littered the ground from the previous battle. A projector in the distance displayed writing on the wall. 'We deserve a soldier's death'.

A horn sounded off in the sky causing the three to look up. "What is that?" Elizabeth asked, her voice showing signs of nervousness.

There were multiple flying ships like the one Crenshaw was taken on earlier today hovering in the sky. "Comstock's ships. There coming for Slate."

"Or for us." Crenshaw replied to Booker's comment.

"It was SLATE who killed for his country at Wounded Knee! SLATE who stormed the gates at Peking! SLATE!" the voice was no longer on a loudspeaker, he was in the courtyard. Slate was going mad now, if he had taken all of those Shock Jockeys, he might have been in some drug fueled rage.

"Slate, don't do this!" Booker yelled, not necessarily trying to reason with him.

"Comstock is coming! But our lives won't satisfy him- oh no! He won't rest until he's turned us into tin! But I won't let him! He took our past, but that's all he's getting from me!"

"C'mon Slate! Just give us the damned vigor and we'll be on our way!" Crenshaw added in. Frankly, he was done beating around the bush as well.

Alistair noticed that Slate was standing up on the second floor balcony; his entire body was producing electricity. He began throwing the vigor at them, covering the ground with various electricity crystals.

"Here you go boys! A soldier's death awaits!"

"Well we certainly aren't talking our way out of this one!" Alistair shouted. He rolled behind a large statue base and pulled out his carbine. He tried to aim at Slate, but before he could take the shot, the Captain moved to cover.

Several soldiers dropped to the ground floor and began to fire at the group. The boy, Johnny yelped as bullets began to fly, but Elizabeth pulled him in close. DeWitt threw a possession Vigor into the group, capturing a soldier with a shotgun. Crenshaw assisted their new ally by picking off new charging soldiers. With each bullet was a new kill. The shotgun-wielding soldier killed two others before being struck down in a hail of bullets.

With one soldier left, Crenshaw put a bullet in his throat. He managed to eject his magazine and successfully reload before the body even hit the floor.

"You're not the Booker DeWitt I remember, tin man! TIN MAN!" Slate's shouts became more and more rage filled. The Captain threw another ball of electricity towards one of the power machines that controlled a door on their left. The machine began to play music as it sprung to life.

"More of them coming!" Battle cries emitted from the doorway as more men charged the battle zone.

"I'll torch your soul!" The vicious call was muffled, Crenshaw prepared for the worse. His assumptions were right, as a Fireman leapt out into the middle of the courtyard.

"Oh no you don't!" Crenshaw replied, firing off several rounds. The bullets smacked against the fireman's facemask, but appeared to only slow it down. The fireman threw a ball of fire at the bounty hunter, but he easily dodged it with a roll. In response, Crenshaw used bucking bronco on his foe. The fireman rotated midair, attempting to fight the vigor. Crenshaw pumped the rest of his magazine into the man, hoping it would do the job. The fireman shouted as the familiar high pitched squealing came from his suit.

Crenshaw knew what that meant.

He positioned himself at the right angle so the fireman was directly between him and a group of soldiers. Alistair extended his left hand and shot off a Sonic Boom, causing the fireman to launch towards the remaining group of soldiers. As the fiery man hit the squad, he immediately exploded, taking the group into a fiery abyss.

"Fool me once shame on you. Not letting you fool me twice." Crenshaw said. He looked to Booker, he was surrounded by corpses and blood.

"Is that all you soldiers could muster?! C'mon, don't disappoint the boys!"

"How about you come down here so we can show you?" DeWitt shouted up to the Captain.

Another door was opened by Shock Jockey, Crenshaw still couldn't see Slate. "Mr. Crenshaw, catch!"

Alistair turned around and felt the need to duck. "Jesus Christ!" He managed to catch a Crank Gun from Elizabeth before being bowled over by it. He didn't know how she managed to throw the damn thing, but frankly he didn't care

"Crenshaw! 'Nother Patriot!" Booker shouted. Alistair smiled, he was glad he could use the weapon on a large target. He ran towards DeWitt as fast as he could with the Crank Gun, slowly turning the handle to get it warmed up.

"You get it's attention, I'll mow them down." The bounty said, motioning to his new weapon.

"I don't like being bait, so this better work."

"Of course it will, and if it doesn't at least your shield will hold up for a bit."

"Reassuring." Booker got up and began firing his machine gun at the patriot and the crowd of soldiers. He powered up his Murder of Crows and let it loose on the group. There were screams of soldiers, but the sound of a crank gun was still present, the Patriot wasn't effected.

"Now or never." Crenshaw moved out of cover and stood in front of the group. As the crank gun began firing, the soldiers were ripped to shreds. Body parts became separated from limbs as the barrage of bullets shredded each soldier. The Patriot didn't know whether to aim at Booker or Alistair, but seeking the bigger threat, it began firing at Crenshaw.

Each opponent fired their crank gun while receiving some bullets as well. Crenshaw felt his shield cracking as the Patriot's rounds hit him like vicious baseballs. The Patriot's head exploded, but it continued to shoot. Alistair's shield shattered and he felt a bullet graze his bicep. He dropped the gun and dove to cover.

"Shit it's still kicking!" Crenshaw shouted. Just as before, a rocket answered his prayers. It zoomed past and hit the Patriot head on. The explosion and shrapnel battered the few remaining soldiers around the target.

"Not anymore it's not." Booker called back. Alistair rushed back to his feet, assuming that more enemies would come at him.

"C'mon, show me what your made of!" Slate shouted again. However, instead of being greeted by more soldiers, there was nothing. The occasional crack of electricity was the only sound that was made.

"Let's keep on him, we can't let him get away!" Booker said, he dropped the rocket launcher and picked up a carbine. Elizabeth and the boy rushed down the steps to regroup.

"Are you two OK?" Elizabeth asked.

"We're both well, thank you Elizabeth." Crenshaw responded.

"That was amazing, Mr. DeWitt!" Johnny exclaimed. The boy obviously held Booker in a high place. Booker didn't exactly know how to respond beside a simple thank you. Crenshaw reloaded his carbine and shotgun before nodding to DeWitt to move on. They went through a door to the right and found a staircase.

"God there's a crapload of stairs." Crenshaw muttered as they continued jogging up several sets of stairs. They entered a long hallway, patriotic banners were hanging from the ceiling.

"TINNIES!" Slate's voice boomed from the end of the hall. The Captain glowed a light blue as he threw more crystals at the group.

"Hold onto Johnny, we got this!" Crenshaw said to Elizabeth. Him and DeWitt charged forward, careful not to step on the electric crystals.

"Get 'em!" A soldier cried out as Slate left the hallway. A group of three soldiers charged the hall and ran towards the two. Crenshaw carefully lined up his iron sights and shot the leading soldier in the skull. His head went back and his legs were swept out from under him as fell to the ground. DeWitt aimed at the incoming men, but then adjusted his fire to a crystal. He fired his machine gun and a round struck one of the Shock Jockey crystals. It exploded upon being struck and lightning shot in all directions. The two remaining soldiers screamed in agony as the electricity passed through their bodies. They stood stunned and DeWitt approached them quickly. He fired his shotgun twice and they fell to the ground.

"Let's get moving!" DeWitt was already on the move. Crenshaw tried to say something, but the Pinkerton obviously had his mind set.

"Go ahead, we'll catch up with him!" Elizabeth called to Alistair. He didn't want Elizabeth and Johnny out of his sight, but he didn't want DeWitt rushing forward doing anything stupid. He shook his head and jogged to catch up with his companion.

Booker had already entered the next room. It was the room filled with fake fire they passed earlier. DeWitt was standing over Slate, a spotlight on the two.

"Finish it soldier! That's an order!" Slate cried out. The Captain had his legs out in front of him. Alistair wasn't sure if Booker had subdued him or if he was in some sort of state from taking too much vigor. He extended a pistol towards DeWitt, for him to take it.

"Do it!"

"DeWitt?" Crenshaw tried to get his attention. DeWitt grabbed the pistol and held it to the Captain's head. "Booker. Look at me." The Pinkerton looked back. "You wanna do this? He's finished."

"He's tried to kill us since we've gotten into this Hall and has been nothing but trouble." Booker replied. "He wants a soldier's death, I'll give it to him."

"I understand that. But he's un-armed and not a threat anymore. I'm not saying I wouldn't shoot him. It ain't the right thing though. This is the kind of shitty stuff that stays on your conscious. We've both done dark things, I know where you're coming from." Crenshaw heard footsteps behind him, assuming Elizabeth and the boy were here now.

"If we don't kill him, you think Comstock will treat him any better?" Booker's voice was portraying more anger then confusion.

"I'm not saying anything. I can't exactly be the voice of reason, I'm just making a suggestion. The decision is up to you."

"And the consequences." DeWitt replied.

"You're a tin man, DeWitt. I knew it." Slate spit in Booker's face. The Pinkerton wiped the saliva off and pistol-whipped the Captain in the face. He dropped the pistol to the ground and bent down next to Slate. He picked up his old comrade and put him over his shoulders.

"We're taking him with. We'll drop him off somewhere away from Comstock's men. I won't leave him to that fate. But if he gets in the way I'm dropping his ass. Pick up the vigor before we leave." DeWitt kicked the bottle over to Crenshaw before he began to walk towards the exit.

Elizabeth ran up to Booker. "Mr. DeWitt… I'm glad you spared him."

"Don't thank me yet" And with that he walked out the door. Elizabeth looked at Crenshaw before following him out with Johnny. Alistair was by himself in the room of vengeance. He picked up the purple bottle and uncorked it.

"I'm gonna get addicted to this shit and go crazy I swear." Alistair thought aloud. He downed the bottle and waited for the affects. His throat began to tingle as if miniature lightning bolts bounced through the walls of his esophagus. He began to cough uncontrollably as his hands produced crystals from the palms. Bolts of electricity bounced between his hands. He gained control and turned to the statue of Comstock standing above him and shock lightning at it. The bolts bounced amongst several lights in the area and caused the statue head to explode.

"Well, if only the same thing happened to the real Comstock." Alistair clenched his fist and went to follow his group out the door.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the update. BTW when Alistair called Elizabeth 'Eli', it's not meant to be read as the male name. I meant for it like literally L-E. I'm sure you got it, just making sure for maximum enjoyment.

I also apologize for the gaps in between stories. Things are busy, but I shall see this story till the end, I swear it.

Big things are coming people. Any comments would be appreciate as things get a bit more, _creative_


	8. Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII: Rage and Grace

"Why was it you spared him?" Elizabeth asked Booker, who currently had Captain Slate over one shoulder and was holding a pistol in his free hand.

"Whatever Comstock's men would do to him would be worse then death. I just want to get him out. Then I'm leaving him. Maybe he would have done the same for me, but that would've been years ago."

They continued through the Hall, besides the sound of their footsteps and voices, there was an eerie silence. All of the opposition had been killed. "Well this is better then killing him right? Can you ever get used to it?"

"Faster then you can imagine." Booker's response made Alistair look at him. He knew how that went. Taking a life is something one may protest internally at first, but for Crenshaw it became as easy as writing his name.

"Is that true?" Elizabeth now asked Alistair.

"Unfortunately, yes. I thought killing would always be hard. But when I pull the trigger, I don't think of the consequences any more." Crenshaw wasn't proud of it, but it was the truth.

"I've learned from the two of you though. You sometimes have to do whats necessary to survive."

"There's a difference between survival, and enjoying pleasure in the act." Booker's comment startled Crenshaw. Was this a self remark or just a statement in general? Booker didn't seem like he enjoyed killing, he was doing a job. But maybe Crenshaw had judged him poorly. "Elizabeth, you're a decent enough sort. So the less you deal with me the better."

The group arrived at a gate, it was one of the last areas in the Hall. A conductor for Shock Jockey was placed next to the gate. "My time to shine." Crenshaw approached the machine and shot a bolt of lightning from his hand. Bells began to go off a crystal formed in the machine, powering up the gate, which slid back automatically.

Alistair bent down and looked at their child companion. "Now Johnny, when did you say your group contacted the military?" Crenshaw asked, trying to analyze their situation.

"They were going to go as soon as they left. At least I think. They were really angry."

"Dammit, they can be set up already outside." Booker looked over to Alistair.

"Going to have to watch out for the kid's group too. Makes it a little more complicated."

"My sister is with them too!" Johnny responded. Elizabeth bent down to his height.

"Well you'll be with your sister soon enough."

"But what about you? Won't you come with?" The boy had taken quite a liking to Elizabeth. Crenshaw couldn't tell if it was his first crush or if he had seen Elizabeth as a big sister, but he saw the feelings.

Elizabeth smiled, that warm glowing smile. "We're going to get you to your friends first, and I'm sure we'll meet up again after that. Someday."

The group arrived to the final door that would lead them outside. Crenshaw readied himself and looked to DeWitt. "Let's do this thing." He kicked the door open ad rushed out, Booker close behind, Slate still on his shoulders.

"Well… shit." The entire area was covered in blue, the soldiers had taken the courtyard to the Hall of Heroes. There was a small formation of people in plain clothes, the group of children.

"That's them! The False Shepherd and his lackies!" Cried out the eldest of the group, the one Crenshaw had to put down. He saw the entire group of children standing next to the Columbian soldiers, a dangerous spot. The boy's sister was squinting to try and see her brother.

"I think you have it mixed up!" Crenshaw shouted back.

The soldiers readied their weapons. One came forward, his carbine at the ready. His uniform was very well decorated. "False Shepherd! Alistair Crenshaw! You two have been sentenced to death by our Prophet! Release your hold on the Lamb and we will ensure your death is honorable.

DeWitt placed the Captain on the ground; Slate was still knocked out cold. "I don't believe him for a second." He muttered to Crenshaw.

"Well no shit. Like we were going to surrender anyway?" Alistair responded with a smile. Before the two could begin firing, a wave of bullets zipped towards them. The group ducked behind cover and frantically readied their weapons. "Well so much for peace."

The boy stood up and waved his hands, calling for the Columbian soldiers to hold their fire. "Johnny get down!" Crenshaw called out, he began to get up to pull the kid back. Everyone froze at the crack of a single bullet. The boy's eyes grew wide as he fell back. Alistair's hearing silenced. Everything seemed to go slow. Johnny tumbled backwards slowly, his dirty white shirt slowly being painted in red. Crenshaw didn't move. Elizabeth cried out and caught the boy. His eyes rolled back into his head. The blood bubbled on his chest and ran out his mouth.

The boy's sister screamed, but Alistair heard nothing. The girl began beating on the soldier below; the man hit her across the face with his rifle. She slowly fell to the ground, and never moved. She lay there like a broken doll. The other group members began to attack the Founders, and they put them each down. The boy was shot, they shot the boy. The soldier who fired his rifle began to slowly back away.

Alistair's ears began to ring. Booker called his name, and Elizabeth cried, but it was inaudible. Crenshaw jumped up on top of the bannister. Rage was all that was fueling his body. "You motherfuckers! He was a child! A little boy! And you shot him! I'll slaughter you for that!" Crenshaw grabbed his shotgun in his right hand and his skyhook in his left and charged the grouping of soldiers. He was outnumbered at least 20 to 1, but his judgment was clouded, he only knew hatred.

The only thing racing through his mind was 'they killed the boy, they killed a child.' The first soldier he got in his sights frantically shot his machine, but the rounds just bounced off Alistair's shield. Crenshaw came in close and drove his skyhook through the man's chest, clean through. The soldier grabbed Alistair's shoulder and spit up blood, Crenshaw felt his body tense up. Using his adrenaline, the bounty hunter carried the impaled body as a bullet sponge as he advanced on the larger group of soldiers.

The bullets impacted on the body, but none went through. Three Columbian soldiers were lined up, a convenience for Alistair. He fired his shotgun twice and managed to take out all three. They shrieked as the buckshot tore apart their bodies. Alistair kicked the body off his skyhook. Bullets were being fired from behind Crenshaw. Booker was using a sniper to pick off targets in the distance.

Two soldiers jumped on top of Crenshaw from a bridge overhanging where he was. They brought him to his knees, but that didn't stop him. He dropped his shotgun and wiggled his skyhook free. He impaled the soldier on his left through the jaw and revved the blade and grabbed the other man by the face and released a Sonic Boom. The soldier's head disintegrated into a bloody pulp in his hands, the body dropped, crumpled in a ball.

A group of soldiers formed a line like a firing squad and began to take aim. Quickly, Crenshaw threw a Devil's Kiss and rolled to the side to pick up his shotgun. The soldiers began patting down their bodies, trying to put out the fire while screaming in agony as their skin burned. Alistair repeatedly fired the shotgun and pulled the lever to keep up a constant rate of fire until it ran out of ammo. Each man fell, one after another. The bodies piled up and the blood flowed.

He dropped the shotgun and charged on with his skyhook in hand. Two bullets caught him in the back, causing his shield to shatter. He spun around and put a single handgun bullet in a soldier's head. Another bullet caught him in the forearm, causing Crenshaw to drop his handgun. He rolled to pick it up and put it back in its holster before attacking the next soldier. He revved the skyhook as he bounced around avoiding bullets. He swung the rotating blade heavily across a soldier's throat, the blood shooting out before he could clench the wound. The blood sprayed across Crenshaw's face, but he paid no attention.

A lone soldier remained. It was the soldier that tried to escape, the one that killed the boy. His comrades lay mangled on the ground, he began to panic. His aim was off because he was shaking so bad. Alistair ran towards this final enemy, he would make him suffer. The soldier managed to land a hit with his rifle, penetrating Alistair's side. The bounty hunter felt the stinging pain, but pressed on. He got in close and grabbed the end of the rifle, pointing it away. Alistair swung the skyhook at the man's kneecap, shattering it. He pulled him back up and head-butted him to the ground.

"Please I surrender! I surrender!" The soldier attempted to hold out his hands to protect his face, but it did not stop Crenshaw. He stood above the man and punched him, and punched him, and punched him.

"You surrender?! After you killed a child?! You don't get to surrender!" The anger he was letting out was not just for the innocent lives that had been taken, but for every life that had been taken from him. His fist hurt, but he pressed on. He kept bludgeoning the man, his face no longer recognizable, until someone took his hand.

"Alistair." The voice was soft, scared. Crenshaw looked up and turned to the person holding his hand. Elizabeth was clasping onto his bloody fist with both hands, tears were streaming down her face. Reality snapped back to Alistair, the hatred leaving his body. The fear in her eyes made him realize what a monster he was. "Please stop." She looked at him, pleading him. She drew his hand in close, his broken and battered hand, and rested her head on it. Anything to make him stop.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth dear I'm so sorry you had to see that." He pulled her close and held her. The girl cried, not heavily, but she would occasionally shake from the tears. She was acting so strong in front of these two men who had killed for good portions of their life. She had just entered the world several hours ago and had such optimism. Alistair didn't want to see her childlike wonder fade away.

"I just want to leave this place, I can't stand all the death." Elizabeth replied.

"We'll get you out. I swear we will." The two of them didn't move, just stayed in each other's arms. The pain began to hit Alistair now that adrenaline had worn off, but he ignored it.

Elizabeth pulled away a little and looked the bounty hunter. "Why did you…" She was obviously referring to the rage-fueled stunt he just pulled.

"I… I can't stand seeing children killed. They have their entire life set ahead of them, and then it's taken away. I had it with these bastards and I lost it. I'm just sorry you had to witness it."

All of a sudden Elizabeth got angry. She stood up straight and pointed at him. "Did you even think? You rushed in there, you were shot! You're bleeding! Your hand is broken! Did you even think about what would happen to us if you died?!"

Crenshaw was surprised, but not angry about the girl's outburst. He held out his hands to motion for her to stop. "You're completely right, I wasn't thinking. It was foolish, and my body paid for my stupidity. All I can hope is that you'll be alright with fixing up a fool like me." He gave her a smile, hoping it would work in his favor. Elizabeth crossed her arms and looked at him.

"Fine, I shouldn't, but I will."

* * *

Booker DeWitt looked at the carnage ahead of him. He gently placed his sniper rifle on the ground and sat on a stair step. He let out a long sigh. This job had just gone further and further down the hole. Crenshaw was useful at times, but this whole act that he just pulled proved he was a loose cannon.

Get the girl and wipe away the debt, after jumping through every hoop. And putting up with outrageous people. His past was coming back, and he didn't like it.

Booker stood up and looked at the sky, night was practically upon them. He needed to the get to that zeppelin. Hopefully the cover of night would allow them to sneak out of the city. Once they arrive in New York, he would have some convincing to do with Elizabeth.

He walked over to Johnny's body. The child died before he hit the crowd, Elizabeth tried to save him but to no avail. He bent down and close the boy's eyelids so he wasn't staring at the sky.

"Shit." DeWitt realized something. During the fight he threw Slate to the floor to give Alistair cover. He was nowhere around now. Did he escape? "There's not way… he was out cold." So much for redeeming Captain Slate.

"DeWitt you have a sec?" Crenshaw was approaching Booker. His arm and hand was completely covered in bandages.

"Sure, where's the girl?"

"She's walking around, needed to cool off after giving me a stern talking to." Crenshaw smiled.

"You really are a piece of work ya know that?" DeWitt wasn't finding it funny.

Alistair's smile faded and he nodded. "I know, I know. And that's why I wanted to talk. I appreciate you backing me up with the sniper rifle during my _crusade_. It definitely wasn't my smartest battle tactic."

"Hell no it wasn't, but what the fuck went through your mind?"

"I don't like dead children."

"Well no shit, no one does. But does that call for you to go insane?"

"I really don't like it. I… I just don't like it, OK? You never feel the need to explain yourself, so why should I. I just wanted to thank you before we get in another gladiator battle. Your mission is almost over, the girl is almost out of here."

"My mission?" DeWitt asked with a raised eyebrow. "Isn't it your mission too?"

"That's what I said, our mission." Booker smirked, but didn't take it any further, he just nodded.

"Yea, so how about we get outta here?" He responded.

* * *

Crenshaw walked down the stairs. This whole job was one disappointment after another. Even with the amount of health kits and bandages, his body was in immense pain, every time he moved it pain shot up his body. He was sweating, and not just because of the July weather. The sun set sky had cooled off the city. He took a deep breath as he saw Elizabeth, hiding the pain and shame he was feeling, covering it all with a smile.

"Ready to get going? I'm sure Comstock's goons will be on us soon enough."

Elizabeth nodded, keeping silent. Booker led the trio to rail station and jumped on first, Elizabeth following close behind. Crenshaw watched as the two quickly grew smaller in the distance. Alistair looked at his skyhook, it was stained in blood and bits of organic material. He gripped it tighter and jumped up to the skyrail.

His arm ached as he held himself up, speeding up so he could get back on the ground. Elizabeth and Booker were waiting for him at the station. Corpses from their previous battle still littered the street. Crenshaw was cautious, he was expecting more Columbian soldiers, but he wasn't complaining. It felt strange that he was just there an hour or two ago when it felt like days. They walked towards the elevator they arrived on and entered silently. Alistair's outburst had shaken them in some way.

"Odd, no one is around." Booker commented. It was pretty strange, when they were moving they were usually greeted by a hoard of soldiers. However this time there was no one. They slowly walked forward, keeping their senses alert. The group got out of the open and entered a room. A glass box greeted them, completely shattered.

"Watch out." Alistair said, preparing his carbine. Usually the robots were stored in those cases. "There may be a…" Just as he was finishing his sentence, the heavy footsteps of a Patriot began sounding off. It got closer, and the crank could be heard. "Patriot! Dammit DeWitt you spoke too soon!"

"Shut up and fry that thing!" DeWitt shouted as he let loose with his machine gun. Crenshaw hadn't thought about that. Electricity and machines could cause some sort of malfunction. He extended his hand and fired a bolt of Shock Jockey. The machine stood up straight and froze, the electricity coursing through it. Crenshaw ran behind it and fire three shotgun shells point blank at its gears. The Patriot's head exploded and tumbled to the ground.

"Good thinking." Alistair said, to which Booker nodded. Crenshaw gave the robot a kick before following the others to the elevator. They were silent as Booker punched the elevator button. The trio had nothing to say, most likely the first time since forming up.

Booker looked at Alistair, who was staring at the ground, his arms crossed. Elizabeth was in a similar state of mind. "Elizabeth," Booker started. The girl looked up. "I don't quite know how you do what you do… with those tears."

Elizabeth smiled at Booker's efforts to make small talk. "I always thought of them as doors. When I was younger I didn't just open the ones I found, I remember making them."

Booker raised an eyebrow. " Make them?"

"I could go wherever I wanted, but in the end… I always came back." Elizabeth trailed off.

"Came back to what?"

"I don't know… I just felt the need." Alistair looked at the girl. Even though she was held hostage by a giant bird in a tower, she still called it home. He was envious in a way, being able to call something home. The elevator bell range as they arrived to their destination.

"Still really doesn't explain how you pull it off." Booker said.

"Well when I was in the Tower I read a lot. Physics and the like."

"What exactly did that teach you?"

"That there's a world of difference between what we see, and what is." Elizabeth was confident in her answer. Her readings probably taught her a lot. In fact, she was probably smarter then both her male companions. Booker shrugged and carried on. Alistair caught up to Elizabeth who was trailing behind DeWitt.

"You never cease to amaze me." He simply stated, trying to force a smile.

"Well hopefully I'll keep surprising you." The girl responded. Alistair's smile grew wide and he chuckled a bit. They jogged to the gondola station. The once peppy and active streets of Soldier's Field were already a wasteland. Litter tumbled around, leaving behind parts of citizens in a rush.

The First Lady Zeppelin was in the distance; the only thing standing in between them and freedom was lousy electricity. Crenshaw fired a bolt at the machine, which sprang to life. Booker pulled the lever and waited for the gondola. The transport on the over end of the rails slowly began to move towards the group. However, loud foghorns filled the sky. The trio looked up to see two ships approaching them.

"They just wouldn't make it easy on us would they?" Crenshaw thought aloud. He made sure his carbine was filled on ammo and began to back away from the pier for a better position.

"Elizabeth! Open that tear!" Booker shouted, pointing to a tear near the merry-go round. With a wave of her hands, Elizabeth opened up the tear and a Patriot stepped out. The robot jogged towards the group and stood its ground.

"Nice to have one on our side." Crenshaw commented. "I'm going to lure them with the sky lines an try and keep them spread out." Before they could protest, Alistair ran towards the nearest skyline and jumped towards it. His skyhook blade rotated rapidly as he approached the railing. The wind rushed past his body as he race along. One of the barges broke off from the other and began to follow Alistair.

"That's right, come to Papa." Crenshaw jumped onto a roof and readied his carbine. He would pick off as many of the men as he could at this range, and kill the rest when they got close. From around the building, Crenshaw heard another foghorn. "Sonova bitch." Another ship swung around the building and four soldiers began to open fire. Alistair rolled out of the way and returned fire. Several bullets smacked into his shield, but he managed to kill each soldier without having to reload, two tumbled off the barge and fell to their deaths.

Crenshaw ran across the roof and towards the now empty ship. "Really hope this works." He leapt off the building and caught himself on the barge. He released a breath loudly as his chest made contact with the edge. He managed to hold on and pull himself up. He sighed with relief and stood up. Alistair ejected his magazine and put a new one into his carbine, sliding back the bolt smoothly.

"There he is!" Shouted a soldier from the approaching ship. Crenshaw didn't give them time to react further. He threw a Devil's kiss onto the enemy craft and watched as the men burned. He quickly put a bullet in each man's head, and each crumbled to the ground.

The loud screeching of a Fireman's suit caused Alistair to look around for the source. The flaming man jumped from the ground up to the enemy's ship. "Christ, he can jump." Crenshaw thought aloud. He dodged an on coming ball of fire and returned with a Shock Jockey. The fireman shouted as the electricity ran through his suit. He shook violently, but Crenshaw felt it would only stun him. He began to unload his carbine on his enemy, hoping it would be enough.

"Suffer in Inferno!" Cried out the Fireman, steam shooting out of his suit.

"Oh no you don't!" Crenshaw pulled the trigger to his carbine, hoping to stop the fireman before he reached his ship and self-destructed. An empty clip was his only response. "Dammit it all." His rifle was jammed. He prepared to fire another Shock Jockey, he knew this would be his last vigor until he found more salts, he felt it.

The shock jockey reached the fireman just as he jumped between the two ships. Unfortunately for Crenshaw, it triggered the explosion. He covered his face as he felt the searing heat singe his body. All of a sudden, his barge began to emit a high-pitched squealing. He saw a large chunk taken out of his ship, it was smoking badly and descending to the ground.

"No, no, no." Crenshaw ran to the controls. He had to hit solid land soon; if he missed he would fall into the abyss and crash to the earth. His shield wouldn't protect an impact like that. He was too far from a sky rail at the moment, so that option was abandoned. He tried to control the ship as best as possible, managing to steer it in the slightest.

Alistair braced for impact as the barge crashed into a building, creating a hole in the ceiling and it plowed through the floor and went down to the first level. Crenshaw fell off the barge and hit the second floor. He coughed as the debris clouded the area.

"Well that went better then expected." He muttered. He dusted himself off and looked around. He appeared to be in a bedroom of some sort, two corpses already on the floor. Crenshaw examined the bodies closer; they were both bound and blindfolded. The wall had a message written in blood, 'Nice Try Fitzroy –Downs'. The corpses must have been members of the Vox Populi. "They must have had some kind of gripe with the room owner. He could be useful, but all I have to go off of is 'Downs'…" Alistair thought to himself.

"Crenshaw? You in there?" He heard Booker's voice coming from outside. Alistair turned around and tried to exit the room. The ship crash had caused the door to jam with fallen wooden beams. Crenshaw moved them out of the way and attempted the door.

"Yea, can you clear the way from your side?" Crenshaw shouted back through the wall.

After several seconds of noise from the wall, Booker responded. "Try now!" Alistair attempted the handle, but still wouldn't budge. He decided he would have to force the door open. He gave a solid kick right above the handle. The door splintered at the hinges. With one more kick the door gave way and he met up with DeWitt.

"You just love destruction don't you?" DeWitt commented, alluding to the crashing ship.

"Destruction is my middle name." Alistair quipped. They jumped down from the second story balcony and ran to the gondola station.

"It arrived when you were out there. It brought a Patriot, but it was nothing I couldn't get rid of." Booker calmly stated as he walked onto the gondola. Elizabeth was sitting in the lever room, swinging her legs.

"Let's get this show on the road." Crenshaw said. He walked to the control lever and pulled it. The gondola shifted and began to move. "I don't know about the two of you, but I've had enough excitement for one day. "

"Agreed. I'm just glad I've had two great escorts." Elizabeth replied with a smile.

Crenshaw smiled and walked back to the main area of the gondola. He removed his flat cap and ran his hands through his hair. He was still ashamed to show his face to Elizabeth. He hadn't necessarily done anything to her personally, but he felt as if his little 'episode' had made him look like a psychopath.

Elizabeth walked outside and stood next to Alistair. "I always saw the outside world from my Tower. But I never got to experience it. It was teasing me. To feel the wind on my face. Natural warmth… it feels… right."

"You never deserved to be locked away in that tower. No one deserves that fate." Crenshaw didn't make eye contact with the girl, he couldn't. "We'll get you to Paris and…"

"Mr. Crenshaw," The girl interrupted him. She began to reach out, but Booker walked out of the control room. The gondola came to a halt.

"Let's get going, you two." Booker waved his hand and pointed to the Airship. This is what they've been waiting for. Crenshaw and Elizabeth followed close behind as Booker crossed the elaborate walkway. The First Lady Airship was beautifully decorated. True to its namesake, more pictures of Lady Comstock decorated the interior.

"Wow..." Elizabeth was amazed with zeppelin.

"Riding in style." Crenshaw commented. Booker walked immediately to the controls and began looking around for the proper way to start the Zeppelin. He began pulling levers and the Zeppelin began to move.

Elizabeth spun around and leaned on the control panel. "I can't believe it. I'm finally leaving. I'll finally be going to Paris."

DeWitt scrambled around with the controls once again before looking at the girl. "After this, your life is your own. You can do what you want." The coordinates were set. 40° N, 74° W. Crenshaw recognized it as New York City.

"Do me a favor and drop me off when you get the chance." Crenshaw had his arms crossed, he was avoiding eye contact.

"What are you getting at? Drop you off where?" Booker looked back. "You can't be serious." Before Alistair had the chance to respond, Elizabeth spoke up.

"Wait a second, what is that? 40 North by 74 West. That's not Paris, that's New York." Booker looked surprise and turned to the girl, who was pointing to the coordinates.

"How did you…?" Booker hadn't accounted for this.

Elizabeth pointed a finger at Booker. "One thing I had while in the tower was time, Mr. DeWitt. Time to study things like Geography."

DeWitt was at a loss of words, Crenshaw could tell. His whole discreet plan had been thrown out the window. He sighed and looked down for a moment before confronting Elizabeth with the truth. "Ok. Yes that's New York. I wasn't just hired to get you from the tower. There's a debt, and a fellow… he offered to wipe away my debt in exchange for you."

Elizabeth turned her back to DeWitt and began to cry, her hands covering her face. Booker looked back to Crenshaw, who simply raised his hands, making it evident this wasn't his to deal with. Booker waved off Alistair and walked over to Elizabeth. "C'mon Elizabeth, don't be that way." He began to reach his hand out. "It's not that bad."

Alistair saw the girl pick up a wrench from the command terminal and turn to face DeWitt. She angrily struck out at DeWitt, the wrench made contact with his face. He went down and was out cold. A single streak of blood ran down his face.

"Jesus Christ!" Alistair rushed to DeWitt's side and checked his pulse to make sure he was still alive. He wasn't responsive, but he was alive. "Elizabeth,"

"Did you know?" Elizabeth demanded, pointing the wrench towards Crenshaw. He raised his hands and slowly approached her.

"Elizabeth, dear, I only knew Booker had some sort of debt to pay off. I didn't know he had to take you to people. I was just hired to help him get you out of the city." Elizabeth's guard seemed to lower. He was lying, but she didn't need to know that. "You trust me right?"

"I do trust you..."

"Then please sweetheart, put down the wrench." The girl did as he asked and placed it on the ground. "That's my girl."

"Could we please leave?" Elizabeth's voice was soft.

"Of course, we'll set the course for Paris." Crenshaw stepped over DeWitt and manned the controls for Paris. He would have to jump off and use a skyrail before they got out of the city. He had unfinished business. There was nothing more that would please him then to stay with the girl, but he couldn't. After several minutes of silence, Alistair opened his mouth.

"Well your course is set for Paris. Better then this place. At least you'll arrive comfortably. Excited?"

Elizabeth's face didn't convey the same excitement she once had. "I am... But why do you keep saying 'you'? Don't you mean us?"

"Well here we go." Crenshaw thought to himself. He looked at the girl, "I can't follow you to Paris just yet Elizabeth. There are some things I need to finish up. I'll meet you there though."

Her face dropped, confusion in her eyes. "But what do you mean? Can't I come with? Can't you just go to Paris?" She approached Crenshaw, he made sure she wasn't armed again.

"Elizabeth I'd love for you to come with, but I have to make sure you're safe. I know you can handle yourself, but I can't risk it."

She was now close to him. She put a hand on his chest. "Can't you just tell me what it is?"

Alistair's mind raced. What would he tell her? "Elizabeth..."

A pair of fog horns went off in the sky. "Save by the horn" Crenshaw thought. He looked out the observation window and searched the skies. Two ships filled with armed men adorned in red were approaching the airship.

"That must be the Vox Populi." Elizabeth said. They didn't appear happy.

"We need to get out of here." Crenshaw began to pick up an unconscious DeWitt.

"Leave him, we can't trust him." Elizabeth said as she made her way to the door. Alistair looked back and forth between the two before deciding to leave the Pinkerton behind.

Crenshaw ran up to Elizabeth and pulled the door open. The wind whipped and them, Alistair readied his sky hook. "See those rails? When we get advice them we're going to jump." He looked at the girl. "Are you going to be Ok doing that?"

At first Elizabeth looked nervous, but she confidently took our her skyhook. She nodded to Alistair. "Proud of you, for all of this." The air ship was seconds away from the drop point when they could hear the shouts of Vox members. "Wait for it... And... Go!" Alistair jumped off the zeppelin first, then Elizabeth.

He extended his arm and caught the hook on the rail, zipping along. He loved the thrill he received from riding the rails, there was nothing like it. He saw what looked like a shipping platform. He pointed to it with his free hand and prepared for the landing. He detached the hook and tumbled to the ground. He rolled the reduce the impact and watched as Elizabeth released her hook. He wasn't sure how well she would deal with the distance so he positioned himself under her.

The girl landed in his arms, to which she smiled. "I got ya."

"Thank you," he let her down and the two began to walk. There were cargo crates of all sizes in the area, it was definitely a shipping yard.

Night was completely upon them. The stars were shining brightly. As Crenshaw thought of it, this was the closest he'll probably ever be to stars.

"It's beautiful." Elizabeth said, looking up at the stars. "I've never been able to see them except through the window in my tower."

"Beautiful... Yes." However Alistair wasn't looking at the stars, but at Elizabeth. She yawned and covered her mouth.

"Excuse me." She said to Alistair.

"Tired?"

"Yes actually. This is the most active I've ever been since... Well since forever."

"I guess it would be a good move to find shelter for the night. We could use one of these crates." Alistair said, pointing to the rows or large wooden shipping crates. They approached a section of open crates with levers on both sides like doors. Alistair popped his head in each crate to view it's contents. He found an abandoned suit jacket and picked it up.

"Here we go," Crenshaw walked into a shipping crate that was empty besides packaging hay. "Are you fine with this?"

"This will be perfect." Elizabeth respond, her enthusiasm slowly coming back. He nodded and pulled the door shut, sealing it from the inside. Alistair sat down on a pile of hay, his back resting on the wall. It just felt good to sit, his body was hating him right now. Elizabeth sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He gave her the suit jacket as a blanket.

"Thank you for everything Alistair." She said in between a yawn.

"My pleasure, dear." His body was telling him to sleep but he was ignoring it. He took offf his cap and used it as a pillow for his head on the wall.

"You're the only one I could trust."

A sting of guilt filled Alistair. This girl trusted him, and he had been lying. He didn't know how to respond other then to grip Elizabeth's hand and give it a squeeze. "Get some sleep, another big day ahead of us."

"You should get some sleep too, you've done so much." Elizabeth held his arm and nestled in closer.

"I'm going to keep watch for a bit. Don't worry about me."

"I do worry about you." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Goodnight, Mr. Crenshaw."

"Goodnight Elizabeth," Crenshaw responded softly.

Several minutes passed, and Alistair was having trouble fighting sleep. Elizabeth's breathing had slowed, she appeared to be sleeping. He was trying to devise some sort of plan for tomorrow, but he would just wing it, he was good at that.

Crenshaw leaned over carefully and kissed Elizabeth on top of her head before fully relaxing for sleep. The girl smiled, but kept her eyes shut. "Well if she's awake, subtly just went out the window," Alistair thought to himself. He shrugged off the feeling and closed his eyes. He felt at peace for the first time in years.


	9. Chapter IX

Chapter IX: The Wild West

February 18, 1912

Holstein, Texas

"I could really get used to this whole horse riding thing." Alistair Crenshaw thought aloud. He pulled his broad brimmed hat [cowboy hat] down on his eyes to protect from the sun. His duster was buttoned up all the way, except at the waist for easy access of his revolver. His spurs made the occasional sound on his boots as his horse bounced up and down.

"Apparently you white men no longer find the need to ride horses." James responded. James was a Native American, who was not particularly fond of his situation. He was dressed in a similar fashion, however a single feather came out of his hat.

"I grew up in the city, I had no need for a horse." Crenshaw responded. His companion made a 'tsk' noise with his mouth in annoyance. "C'mon James you have to lighten up, this is a prosperous business partnership."

"Is that all you see it as? A business deal?" James was not particularly pleasant in his tone.

"There you go with that tone. Listen, I know you want revenge and all, but this man we're hunting down is worth a lot more alive then dead." Crenshaw was hunting down Buck McGraw, a cattle thief turned bank robber and murderer. He killed many people on his rampage through southern-eastern Texas, but most recently he burnt down most of a Tonkawa village.

The Tonkawa were a tribe of Native American, this particular village was fifty miles outside of Houston Texas. The village was bordering a ranching town called Holstein. Alistair Crenshaw had arrived by train in Houston and rode out in a convoy to Holstein. He had been tracking McGraw for quite some time, and when he heard of the raid on the village, he figured he would use the Natives to his advantage.

He had walked into the remnants of the Native village, still approached with hostile intent. Luckily, some of the Tonkawa were able to speak English. Crenshaw had approached them with a deal, if one of the Natives were to help him track down McGraw, he would split the bounty 50-50, and more importantly, get some revenge out of it.

James had no volunteered, but his people chose him. His real name was 'Tracking Eagle', but he had gone out into the world and been Christened under the name of St. James. After denouncing the White Man's world he returned to his village. He became a recluse, but a great hunter. He was a man not much older then Crenshaw, but the two couldn't have been more different.

"My people were murdered, my women were raped. This man deserves death."

"And he will get death, just not by your hand."

"It should be a Tonkawa that kills him, not your hangman. You do not understand, the White Man doesn't understand anything about suffering we have been through."

Alistair sighed and pulled his leather gloves tighter. The Texas winter was not as harsh as Chicago, but the occasional cool breeze would make him shiver. "I may not know the specifics, but I do understand death."

"You said you served." Alistair was surprised, he said that off hand, he didn't expect James to remember. "You mean you know the death of soldiers. But you know nothing of the death of family."

"You could believe what you want, false or not. I'm not asking you to be my best friend, I'm asking you to work with me."

The two continued on their journey. They had left the remnants of the village at the first sign of the sun. Tracking Eagle had seen which direction the bandits had gone from the village. James said he arrived in the village towards the end of the siege, managing to ward off some of the men. He had taken this personally; Crenshaw could see that by his expressions.

Crenshaw saw the town of Holstein on the horizon. There were large barns that made up the outskirts of the town, cattle grazed without a care in the world. He had a hotel room above the tavern, nothing more then a single bag with various items. He hadn't even used the bed yet. Holstein was a quaint town, filled mainly with ranchers. However there were several businesses and a Sheriff's Office.

"Your people said that he made his way towards Holstein did they not?" Crenshaw asked. James had been tracking the gang's horses the entire way; how he did it was beyond Alistair.

"That is correct," James responded.

"Probably in the bar, that's where I'd be." Alistair responded. His horse sped up; he didn't want to miss this crook. They entered the town in a wave of dust. There had not been a single person in the streets, and the sun was still in the sky. Alistair took this as a sign of trouble. He and James rode up to the saloon and put the horses on the hitching post. There was an African American male standing in front of a group of seven horses, right near the doors.

As Crenshaw and his companion reached the door the man stood in front of him and put a hand on his chest. "You ain't wanted 'n there. Best be leavin' now."

"Why is that?" Crenshaw played stupid. "We're just looking for a drink is all."

"How 'bout ya get and find a drink somewhere else?"

"How about no." Crenshaw grabbed the man's hand off his chest and pulled him down into a wristlock. He kneed him once in the stomach and flipped him over into the horse trough. The man was dazed and tried to reach his revolver, but James delivered a swift kick to his head.

"And in we go." Alistair said. He pushed the door open and looked around. There was a man tied up, beaten and bloodied in the corner. Judging from the star on his chest he was the sheriff. The bartender was standing scared behind the bar; he didn't look up from the glass he was cleaning. The McGraw gang was shouting and drinking heavily, several of them playing cards at a table. None of them paid attention to the two.

Alistair shot a look to James before walking up to the card table and bending down. "Mind if I join gents?"

The men scrambled to get up, half in a drunken stupor. They pointed their revolvers at Alistair and James, the former who simply smiled. "Who da 'ell are you?" hollered one. Buck was sitting at the bar, keeping an eye on his drink and the new visitors.

"Wait a second, I know this one." A man walked forward. He was younger and had a moustache. Alistair recognized the outlaw as Buck's right hand man. He jabbed a finger in Crenshaw's face. "This 'ere's that Crenshaw character, the bounty hunter."

"The one that took out Deschutes boys?" Shouted one of the men.

"One in the same. I'm flattered you know me." Crenshaw responded. The mustached gang member walked around Alistair. "That must make you Lil Bill the Bastard right? If you boys could put down your weapons that would be grand."

Bill shoved his revolver in Crenshaw's face. "Bill the Bloodhound." This was on account of his big ears.

"Close enough." The bounty hunter replied. He kept his hands away from his weapons, however he did make sure they knew he was armed. James had his hand on his belt, keeping an eye on each individual.

"We know about you Crenshaw. You think you're some hot shit bounty hunter don't ya? You've taken out men from all ends of this country. From New York to California. You're supposed to be some kind of scourge ain't ya?"

"I would like to think I'm pretty damn good at my job."

"Well we ain't scared of you." One of gang members hollered. He spit at Crenshaw's boots. He looked down at the saliva and then back up.

"You should be."

"And now you taking in injuns?" Bill said, referring to James.

"You might actually recognize him. Remember that village you burned down a day or two ago? Well you see, you made some people mighty angry. Besides pissing off the people who will be paying me, you have a lot of Native's who would love your scalp. He's here as just a taste of their lust for your blood."

"You're not going to be getting any of us. You walked right into our hands." Billy said this with confidence and began to laugh. Each of the gang members joined in except Buck, who downed his drink.

Crenshaw smiled, "Did I?" Alistair acted quickly. He struck out and hit Billy in the throat and disarmed him. He bent his arm backwards and took the knife from the outlaw's bent. Crenshaw dug the knife down onto his hand, sticking him to the table. Billy grunted in pain, his throat closed, now on his knees. Alistair took out his revolver and James did the same.

The bounty hunter pressed the barrel of his revolver to Billy's head. He looked around, the gang was scared, and he assumed they never faced real opposition. "Well now that I have your attention let me make introductions. As you know, I am Alistair Crenshaw, bounty hunting extraordinaire. This here is Jimmy. You see you've pissed off a lot of people, more specifically you Mr. McGraw." He said pointing to the leader with his free hand. "But you're not all without sin, like Billy here. You know have a price on your head too, boy. However, your price is the same dead or alive." Alistair pressed the revolver down harder.

"So what are you waiting for." Buck stood up and spoke for the first time. "Kill 'im."

Billy's eyes grew wide. "But-but boss!"

Alistair looked down and then up. "I may take you up on that. But first, I have a business proposition. You see boys, your boss and his right hand here have some money on their heads. You put the guns down now and turn on him, I'll give you some of the money and let you go. If ya don't, well you should start digging your grave now."

The lackeys looked at each other. They obviously weren't used to thinking for themselves. "If you appreciate you livin' ya best kill that Sonova bitch now." Buck raised his voice. He withdrew a sawed off shotgun and revolver. Alistair looked to James and nodded.

"Your loss." Alistair pulled the trigger and painted the table with Billy's brains. He kicked the table over for cover and James dove to the ground. Bullets soared through the saloon. Glass shattered and bottles exploded as both sides rapidly pulled the trigger. James began shouting in his native tongue as he killed two men. Crenshaw was just glad that this saloon wasn't filled with more innocents.

"You're making this harder on yourself Buck!" Crenshaw shouted as he reloaded his revolver, "I hope you've made peace with the Lord!"

"Fuck you bounty hunter! Your head is the one that's going to be served on a platter!"

Blood was running on the floor, mixing with the booze. Alistair looker up at the ceiling, a lone chandelier was hung. He positioned himself better and shot the hinge, sending it to the ground. The gasoline spilled to the floor, and the spark from a bullet set the place up in a blaze. Crenshaw stood up and began making his way to McGraw. An outlaw was struggling to get up, blood coming from his leg. Alistair put a single bullet in his head and carried on, not missing a step.

McGraw was heading to the back exit, the bartender was taken as a hostage. Crenshaw carefully aimed his revolver, "Put him down McGraw, I'm not gonna ask twice."

"Then you won't have to." Buck shot the man in the head, the blood sprayed onto the wall as a chunk of his head blew off. The outlaw dropped the body and ran out the door. Crenshaw cursed and fired off two rounds, one of which caught Buck in the back.

"He's going for the horses, get him!" Crenshaw shouted as he ran back to the main room. James was un-tying the sheriff at the time, amidst the blazing fire. He stopped what he was doing and jumped over a burning table. Crenshaw watched as James ran outside and began firing his revolver towards Buck until it ran out.

Alistair assumed the outlaw got away judging by James's reaction. He took out a knife and cut the last of the sheriff's ropes. He threw him over his shoulder and made his way out of the burning saloon. A crowd had formed in the streets. James had already gotten on his horse.

"We must follow him!"

"We will, hold up!" Crenshaw replied. He patted the sheriff in the face, hoping to wake him up. He was out cold. "You have a doctor of some sort?" Alistair shouted to the crowd.

A woman stepped forward, "My husband is the town doctor."

"Well go get him! Make sure the sheriff makes it, and get the Marshall as well. There's going to be some more bodies rolling through." Alistair jumped up on his horse. "Let's ride."

The two of them sped off in pursuit of McGraw. Dust and rocks were being kicked up as the horses sprinted. Alistair kept low, his hand ready to grab the rifle from holster on the horse. "You know where he's going?"

"He's bleeding, I'll follow blood." James replied.

"Ya know for a Native that hates white men it's funny that you tried to save the Sheriff." Crenshaw said jokingly.

"For a white man who has never ridden a horse, you ride well." James shot back, to which Alistair smiled.

"Did it feel good to kill those men back there?" Crenshaw asked. He was hoping that James still wasn't interested in killing Buck, there was a lot of money riding on this.

"I know you want me to change my mind about McGraw, I have not. All these men deserve death at the hand of an 'injun', regardless of your precious money."

"Well I hope you'll reconsider when you're killing his underlings." Alistair looked in the distance and saw horses riding in. They passed McGraw and continued to charge towards the two. "Speaking of which, it appears we have more of them right here!"

Alistair pulled out his repeater off the horse and steadied his aim. He aimed center mass on an approaching target and pulled the trigger. The man was thrown from his horse as blood erupted from the wound. The outlaws were now upon them. Bullets zipped past Alistair's head as he returned fire. He had to concentrate on moving his horse while trying to take down the gang members. As one was coming towards him, he swung out with his repeater, catching the man in the face. Alistair put the rifle in its holster and began during with his revolver.

As soon as there was a gap in the line of enemies, Crenshaw saw James ride off to chase down Buck. "Dammit James! Well looks like it's just me."

"You're all alone! You best get on your knees and beg if you're lookin to live!" One of the outlaws shouted out. Crenshaw steadied his arm and shot the man directly in the face.

"Looks like you're the ones who have to worry!" Crenshaw shouted. He gave his horse a kick to speed up as he emptied the chamber of his revolver. He smoothly placed each round in, being careful not to drop any. The remaining men were hot on his tail. He was getting lucky because he hadn't been shot yet.

"Sonova bitch!" He spoke to soon. Alistair felt a stinging sensation in his left shoulder, the blood was coming out of both sides of his body, he was just glad it went straight through. Crenshaw turned around and pulled the trigger repeatedly, unloading upon the remaining men. One by one they fell, blood shooting out of their bodies.

Crenshaw's shoulder was still stinging, but he wouldn't let that stop him. He had been shot before, too many times. This time wouldn't be any different. With the McGraw gang all-dead, which only left him with a lone man left.

A bullet cracked in the sky. Crenshaw turned to face the noise. He assumed that was the direction James and Buck had ridden off to. "I swear to God, if he killed that lowlife..." Crenshaw sped the horse up. He followed a winding trail that led up a hill. Alistair pulled a bandana over his mouth, as the dust got thicker. The horse tracks were hard to follow, but seeing as there was only one path to follow Crenshaw carried on. He saw a horse racing back towards him; it appeared to belong to McGraw. James was standing above Buck, a knife in his hand.

"Tracking Eagle," Crenshaw used James's real name. The Native American glanced over his shoulder. "Hold on for a second."

"I know your motive is money, that's all you care about. However this man does not deserve a humane death. My people demand his blood."

Alistair got off his horse and held his hands up. "You're wrong James. I just don't care about money. I understand your position. He will be killed for his crimes, he's not getting out of that."

"Then why do you try and stop me?" James turned back to Buck, who was bleeding on the ground, he was panting, trying to catch his breath. Crenshaw knew he would die in a couple hours from gradual blood loss. He hated feeling as if he was defending the scumbag, but he was to be taken in alive.

"Why? I honestly don't have a good reason. Think of the money that could help your village rebuild. This guy is worth a lot of money. I'm talking about the big picture."

James took a look at Crenshaw and back at Buck. He slowly put his knife away. Crenshaw walked forward and patted him on the back before taking out rope to tie up McGraw.

"That's right injun, listen to the white boy, and know your place." Buck spat out. Crenshaw jabbed the man in the face, breaking his nose on impact.

"You shut your mouth before I cut out your tongue and feed it to you." Alistair kicked the tied up outlaw over. "You know, just because it says bring him in alive, it doesn't say what kind of condition he has to be in. It's not like he has to be able to walk." Alistair smiled at James. The Native American smirked and nodded. He cracked his knuckles and walked towards the outlaw.

Buck's eyes widened in fear as he attempted to scoot away. "Now listen hear bounty hunter, you can't be doing that, ya hear!?" Crenshaw began to whistle as he walked to the horses to tend to them. "Now let's be reasonable about this..."

* * *

Alistair and James successfully made it back to town with Buck tied to a horse. The townspeople didn't know whether to cheer for the two or kick them out. They're hotel and saloon was burnt out. There were at least fifteen corpses they had to deal with, and destruction was all around. Since all the outlaws were dead, they only needed one jail cell for the leader of the gang. With nowhere else to sleep, James and Alistair slept in a vacant jail cell for a night until the Marshall arrived.

Alistair had his bullet wound patched up, Buck didn't have it as easy. Every major bone in his body had been broken, a 'horse accident'. James had loosened up slightly, but he was anxious to get back to his people and help rebuild.

It was daytime and the two had just eaten at the local restaurant. "What will you do after this?" James asked as they walked back to the sheriff's.

Crenshaw raised an eyebrow and looked over to his companion. "Didn't think you'd care. Most likely I'll keep doing what I've been doing. Take on the next bounty, maybe I'll take a break. Depends on what I find from the Big Guy."

"The Big Guy?" James asked. "Your God?"

Crenshaw laughed slightly. "Yea... Something like that."

There was a carriage parked outside of the sheriff's. A man was sitting outside of it, cradling a shotgun in his arms. Alistair tipped his hat and entered the building. The sheriff, bandaged up all over his body, was sitting in a chair behind his desk. Another figure was talking to him, a woman. Alistair instantly recognized the female.

"Lynn?" Crenshaw asked. The woman turned around, the smallest grin on her face.

"That's a voice I wasn't sure I'd ever be hearing again." Lynn was a Marshall, the only female he ever knew of being one. She was a southern belle of sorts. Her strawberry blond hair came in curls down her face. Her hat came down on her face, making only her mouth visible, magnifying her smile. Her vest was tightly fitted, a US Marshall badge on her chest. "Alistair Crenshaw, my favorite bounty hunter."

She lifted her hat off her eyes, they were a magnificent blue, irresistible. Alistair took off his hat and bent down to kiss her hand. "You've just significantly improved my day, ma'am."

"Still the gentleman I remember." The woman smiled and withdrew her hand. "I should have figured you'd have been the one to bring in McGraw." She pointed towards the jail cell where McGraw was laying down.

The Sheriff looked between the two and slowly stood up with the use of a crutch. "I'm going to grab something to drink, care to join?" He asked James. James wasn't thrilled but he accepted the offer and walked into another room.

Lynn smiled at the bounty hunter, who returned the grin. She put her hands on Crenshaw's face and kissed him. He pulled her in close as he passionately kissed her. She pulled back and smiled before slapping him across the face.

Alistair rubbed his mouth and looked at the Marshall. "I probably deserved that." .

"As a matter of fact you did. You left that morning without saying goodbye. I'm glad and mad to see that handsome face of yours."

Alistair shrugged. "Unfortunately I won't be able to stick around this time either." The two had met on a previous bounty. He had fondly remembered the day (and night) they spent together after he had turned in a killer.

"Grabbing your money and running?" The Marshall said, she wasn't bitter, she understood his life. She was one of the few who did. She held up a bag and dropped it on the table. Stacks of dollars fell out over the table.

Alistair picked up a wad and tossed it into the air, playing catch with the money. He put the thick wad in his duster. "You know it's not all about the money, Lynn."

"Not with you, it's never been about the money. Something I never quite understood."

"There has to be some mystery to me," Crenshaw said with a wink.

"I also found it odd that you brought along someone." She said, referring to James. "I know you've worked with people, but you said you preferred to carry out the job by yourself."

"I have friends believe it or not. I just would prefer if everyone I knew didn't get hurt because of me."

"Doesn't help if you push your friends away either..."

"Lynn I don't want to get into this right..." Crenshaw was cut off by a knock on the wall. The sound of hammering filled the room. The two stood in silence for about a minute before the noise finally stopped. Lynn looked at Alistair before heading outside to see what the source of the noise was. Crenshaw let out a sigh and leaned up against the sheriff's desk.

"Alistair!" There was a tinge of fear in the Marshall's voice. Crenshaw stood up straight and walked towards the door. Lynn had a wanted poster in her hand, a new one must have just been posted.

"What? Everything alright?"

The woman trotted to him and extended the paper out. Alistair's eyes grew wide, he felt sweat run down his neck. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" Was all he could say. It was his face on the wanted poster. Wanted dead or alive.

"What did you do?" Lynn asked, demanding to know.

Alistair stumbled over his words, not sure what to say. "Nothing! My job! According to this I'm wanted for 'murders, destruction of property, and crimes against humanity'? What the shit is that?" His mind raced. He never broke the law. His killing was justified by the American government. There had to be a mistake.

"Did you?" Lynn was serious; she had a job that called for his capture.

"No! Hell no! Lynn you know me! Better then most, I would never unless my job dictated it!" The Marshall looked at him, she knew he was being sincere.

"Well... If you didn't, they sure are offering a lot of money for you." She said, pointing to the bounty. She tapped the paper one more. "A Judge Morrison mean anything to you?"

"Uh... I worked with him once in New Orleans, why?" Alistair was just trying to get his thoughts straightened out.

"He's the one who issued the bounty." Lynn's words struck Alistair, he grew angry.

"That Sonova bitch! If this is his idea of a joke I'm going to slaughter the bastard!" Crenshaw proceeded to walk by the desk with the money. He dropped a piece of paper off before going through the door.

"Where are you going?" Lynn followed him out. He turned around and kissed her on the lips. Alistair jumped up on his horse.

"Houston, I have a train to catch to New Orleans."

"Please don't do anything too stupid." Lynn crossed her arms and looked up to the bounty hunter.

Crenshaw smiled and tipped his hat. "You know I can't guarantee that." He gave his horse a kick and he was off. He never looked back, he was a man on a mission.

Lynn sighed and shook her head. "That man is something else." She walked back into the office and looked at the desk. A majority of the reward was still sitting there. "He left the money? Why would he.."

James walked out of the back office and looked around. "Where did the bounty hunter go?" He approached the Marshall and stared at the desk. There was so much money. Lynn looked at him and handed a note over.

James accepted the paper and read it aloud. "I thought 20/80 was a better deal. Your village needs the money more then I. I'll see ya."

For the first time since he was out here, he smiled. "That white man is something else."

* * *

I felt like changing it up a little. Hope you liked this flashback. I'm really looking forward to these next chapter. Comments and the like are always appreciated. Thanks for reading


	10. Chapter X

Chapter X: The Unexpected Turn

"I can't wake him, he's tired." Elizabeth thought to herself. She had woken up next to a sleeping Alistair. This was the most peaceful she had seen him since they met. He was much more approachable then Mr DeWitt, but he always seemed as if he was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. His breathing was steady and soft. He didn't snore, his chest just raised slowly. Elizabeth backed away slowly, a small smile on her face. She was careful not to wake him.

She gently opened the door, cringing as it squeaked. She turned back to Alistair, who did not move. The girl slid out the shipping crate and embraced the warm July air. She couldn't help but feel incredibly blessed. She was able to experience the world for the first time. It was a beautiful day and a knight was rescuing her from this wicked place. Alistair was everything she had thought of when she had the image of a gentleman.

She was thankful for Mr DeWitt at one point, but he was... Rough around the edges, and a lair.

Elizabeth figured Alistair wouldn't like it if she went out by herself, but she was anxious to explore a little. The sun was affecting her vision, but it felt good on her skin.

They were definitely in some sort of shipping yard, she heard men working and machines whirring. She stayed close to the walls of containers, she didn't want to be spotted.

Elizabeth peeked around a corner before walking, the coast seemed clear.

"Well look what we have here boys!"

Elizabeth's hair stood on ends as she cringed at the masculine voice behind her. She spun around and a large hand grabbed her arm. Three large men had spotted her, they wore dirty working clothes.

"Now what are you doing here sweetheart?" Asked one of the men, a foolish grin on his face. Elizabeth began panicking, she couldn't think straight.

"I think she was feeling adventurous, boys." Answered the third.

"Well we can show her adventure, can't we? Lets give her the stow away treatment shall we?"

Elizabeth protested and began fighting back, but they're hold was too strong. She began looking for a tear to use, but there were none in the area. She wasn't able to concentrate hard enough to attempt to rip one out of thin air. They dragged her onto the corner of docked air ship. She shouted out louder, hoping to get someone's attention. One of the men began to unbutton her blouse...

"Now that's not very gentleman like is it?" Elizabeth immediately recognized the voice. She calmed down a bit, it was Alistair. Two of the men turned around, only one was holding onto her. She was turned around to face Alistair, who was cracking his knuckles. "You're going to get your hands off her. I'm not giving you an option, that's me telling you."

"This doesn't concern you, little man."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Little? Now I may not be six-five pushing two-thirty like you burly men, but I wouldn't necessarily say im small." The men were surprised the response, he was very calm. Crenshaw shrugged his shoulders. "And I may be smaller then you, but those are the types you gotta look out for." He grinned, Elizabeth had gotten so used to his smile.

"I've had just about enough of you." one of the men began to approach Alistair. The bounty hunter kept his hands folded on his stomach.

"I was about to the say the same to you." Alistair's response was fast, Elizabeth barely saw him strike out at the closest man's jugular. The worker immediately grabbed his throat, making him an open target. Alistair kicked out his kneecap, breaking the leg immediately in half. The noise was sickening, the leg popped out from under him. The bounty hunter delivered a swift elbow to the jaw and the man collapsed to the ground.

The man holding Elizabeth released his grip and charged Alistair, who was fighting the second worker. "Mr. Crenshaw!" Elizabeth attempted to warn him about the incoming enemy. The worker grabbed Alistair in a massive bear hug from behind and lifted him up.

Alistair kicked the worker in front of him in the face, who immediately reeled back in pain. Alistair's hands were free and he reached back towards the man holding him. He dug his thumbs into the enemy's eyes and cupped his hands for another blow. Using his hands, he clapped the man's ears, disorienting him. The worker released his grip and screamed in pain.

The second man charged Alistair, who quickly side stepped him and took him down with three well placed strikes. The last man, blinded and disoriented was fueled with rage. "Fuck you!" He lashed out with a big punch.

Alistair caught the fist. The worker may have been bigger, but Alistair obviously knew what he was doing. He lowered the man to his knees, bending the hand in ways in shouldn't be. "Who the hell are you?" The man grunted.

"Oh so now you wanna talk?" Alistair said sarcastically. He delivered a quick back fist to the man's face. The worker went limp and Alistair released his grip.

Elizabeth was amazed by what she just witnessed. Alistair had not even broken a sweat.

Crenshaw leaned down and checked the man's pulse closest to him. Alive, good. He stood up and was surprised when Elizabeth threw her arms around him.

"Mr Crenshaw that was amazing. Thank you, I didn't mean to walk off I just..."

"Whoa settle down sweetheart. It's ok. You're safe, im not mad. I just didn't like them touching you is all." Elizabeth released her embrace and looked at him. Crenshaw began buttoning up her blouse, being careful with his hands.

"Are they...?"

Alistair knew what she was asking. "No, I didn't kill them. I want them to wake up in excruciating pain to realize what fools they were."

"You always surprise me Mr. Crenshaw."

"Mr Crenshaw? What ever happened to Alistair? I can't me more then eight years your senior, Elizabeth." The girl smiled and apologized. "Now speaking of fools and the like, it appears I forgot my shotgun and carbine back in the container. Stay right here, ok? I'm going to run back and grab those. I don't know if we'll be running into any trouble."

"Alright, I'll be right here." Crenshaw gave Elizabeth a thumbs up before trotting off.

He was around half way back when he heard Elizabeth scream. A male voice was heard in response. "Dammit Crenshaw you fool," he only had his handgun on him, and he was out if salts. He couldn't risk getting the rest of the guns. Alistair turned around and sprinted back to where he left Elizabeth.

She was gone, and Alistair panicked. He rounded the corner and saw a man chasing after her. Completely disregarding his body condition, Crenshaw went into a full blown sprint. He got close to the man and recognized the clothes.

"DeWitt?!" The man turned around briefly, it was definitely him. Alistair caught up to him. "What happened?"

"She ran from me!" He replied. He faced forward and yelled, "Dammit Elizabeth can you just stop!"

"I'm not going with you!"

The girl waved her hand and an assortment of balloons appeared out of thin air. Booker slowed down and waved them out of her face while Crenshaw continued plowing through.

"Elizabeth calm down it's ok!" Crenshaw was running as fast as his body would let him. He had to catch up with her, get her to stop. Another tear opened up and a marching band appeared. Crenshaw swore to himself as he worked through the small crowd, DeWitt was close behind.

They were now out of the shipping area. Elizabeth had ran into what looked like an office. Crenshaw had closed the distance between himself and the girl. She waved her hand and opened a hole in the far wall.

"Elizabeth stop!" Booker shouted from behind. She ran through the hole and was immediately grabbed by two Columbian soldiers.

Alistair thought fast, he had no Vigors so he couldn't shock them. He was close, it was risky but he reacted. He dove through the hole just before it closed and tackled one of the soldiers to the ground. He withdrew his handgun and fired a single round into the man's head. He flipped around and aimed carefully. He fired another two rounds at the remaining soldier before he could react.

Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief as Crenshaw put away his handgun and stood up. "You're ok, I won't let anyone..." Crenshaw felt excruciating pain. He couldn't move his body. He saw the familiar blue lightning running through his body. "Run. Now," was all he could manage.

Elizabeth's face was frozen in horror. She went to reach out for Alistair, but yelled as electricity zapped her briefly. She began to back up. She turned around to see where she could go. She didn't want to leave Alistair, but he gave her an order. Booker could help, right?

A man in a suit and black mask began walking towards the girl. His hand held the Shock Jockey, bolts of lightning danced around. Crenshaw dropped to the ground, released from the vigor. He clutched his chest, his heart felt as if it may explode. The masked man slowly got closer. Alistair wouldn't give him the chance to hurt her.

He withdrew his handgun and pointed it towards the mysterious figure. "Elizabeth! Run dammit!" He opened fire, pumping three rounds into the man. He was horrified when he realized a yellow shield grew around him as the bullets struck, the same as his and DeWitt's. "What the shit...?"

Elizabeth turned around and ran towards a skyrail, her best bet for safety. The masked man turned to Crenshaw and released another bolt of lightning upon him. Alistair rolled onto his back and shouted in anguish once again. He cringed as the electricity bounced in his was still holding his handgun, but he couldn't aim it, his body was screaming at him.

Two soldiers trotted over to him. As the vigor wore off they picked him up. "Take him to the cells. We'll deal with him later." The voice was muffled from mask, but it was definitely male.

When the two soldiers began dragging Alistair, a bullet cracked in the sky. One of the soldiers went down, his head exploded into a bloody pulp onto his partner. Crenshaw could see DeWitt on a second story across from him. He wish he could help, but the lightning had done a number on him. He now knew how it felt to be on the opposite side of a vigor. Alistair began coughing up blood.

"Concentrate your fire on the nuisance up there!" The masked man said. The soldier passed off Crenshaw to the man and joined a group attacking Booker.

"Fuck you," Crenshaw said, spitting his blood onto the mask. The man grabbed Alistair's handgun and headbutted the bounty hunter. His head spun, the mask was solid to say the least. The masked man through Crenshaw over his shoulder and took him to a set of crowded jail cells. He threw the bounty hunter in the room and locked the door.

Alistair cursed himself as he got on his hands and knees and spit up more blood. He was no weaponless and vigorless, not a good situation to be in. He stood up with the help of the cell bars. He looked behind him, the group in the cell was staring at him, arms crossed. They were all in a similar state, appeared pretty down on their luck.

The fire fight appeared to be over outside, the weapons had stopped firing. Booker came rushing in to the holding room, covered in blood. "Crenshaw you alright?" He rushed to the cell doors and began looking for a way to get him out.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, you're covered in blood." Crenshaw stated matter of factly.

"It's not mine. We need to get you out of here." Booker was showing more interest in this then he had shown all of the previous day. Alistair was thinking Elizabeth hitting him had juggled something around in his head.

"Forget about me, I'm obviously not going anywhere. You need to catch up with Elizabeth." Crenshaw wasn't interested in sticking around but he knew the girl was more important. "Find me some salts when you get back and I'll blow the door off the hinges with a sonic boom. Now go!"

Booker fished a red vial out of his pocket, a small health kit, and passed it off to Crenshaw before running out the door. Alistair downed the bottle and felt his energy coming back to him. He dropped the vial to the ground and walked back away from the cell door.

He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. He looked at the crowd in the cell, all eyes were still on him. "So, how'd you boys get in this joint?" He asked. They continued to look at him. A younger man walked forward, his arm in a cast.

"You're the bitch who broke my arm!" Crenshaw tilted his head, then remembered the pickpocket from the day before, it felt like ages ago.

"First off, the correct word use would be bastard. Second off, you tried to steal my wallet. And third off, I wouldn't hesitate doing it again." The pickpocket began waving other men forward.

"You messed with my boy here?" One of the inmates asked. He was bigger, Crenshaw didn't care.

"Yes, and he cried like a little girl." Crenshaw was calm and smiling. If he was going to be locked up he might as well do something.

"They're gonna get you for that!" The pickpocket spoke up.

"You best watch your tone boy, I'll break your other arm so you'll need someone to wipe your ass when you use the bathroom." Crenshaw enjoyed trash talking. People really got riled up. The group of men approached him. Crenshaw cracked his knuckles. He was outnumbered in a small area, he liked that setup.

"That's right, line up for me."

* * *

Booker was on a skyrail, attempting to follow Elizabeth. He was hoping he would run into her soon. He may have lied about Paris, yes, so maybe he did deserve a wrench across the face. The whole running away thing seemed to be a bit of an overreaction though.

Booker was deep in thought and was not paying attention to his surroundings. A handyman, a human in a giant mechanical suit, swooped out of nowhere and smacked him off the rail. DeWitt shouted as he flew through the air. There was no rail in the area, he would be in free fall. He frantically looked around, but to no avail.

To DeWitt's luck, a small blimp appeared out of thin air. He didn't care where from, he just grabbed onto the canvas top. He began to slide off, he attempted to get a steady grip, but a part of the canvas began to tear. "No, no, no!" It gradually tore towards the bottom of the flying blimp and stopped completely. The blimp rose and DeWitt got closer to a platform.

Standing on the platform with her arms crossed was Elizabeth, she did not appear very happy. "You shouldn't have followed me Mr. DeWitt."

"I know I lied Elizabeth! But I found another way out of here."

Elizabeth was about to reply, but hesitated. "Where is Mr Crenshaw?"

Booker wasn't in the mood for a lengthy conversation while hanging on by a thread. "Can we stick to one topic at a time please?" He knew the girl would get emotional if she knew where Crenshaw was right now. She furrowed her brow and pushed the blimp away with a wave of her hand. DeWitt cursed as the aircraft pushed further away from the platform.

"Where is he, Mr DeWitt?" Booker heard anger in her voice for the first time. He knew what she was capable of, he wouldn't piss her off.

"He's in a jail cell row now, but we're going back to get him!" DeWitt made sure to finish his sentence before she had the opportunity to react. "Now will you please pull me back!"

Elizabeth looked confused, then reluctantly waved her arm, pulling the blimp closer to the platform. DeWitt immediately jumped to the ground. Even though he was still in a floating city, he still was very happy to see some type of ground. "What do you mean he's in jail?" Elizabeth asked, her tone still not pleasant.

Booker stood up and dusted himself off. "He was dragged off by that guy in the black mask after you ran. Once we get back we need to give him some salts to take out the door."

"Well what are you waiting for?" Elizabeth began jogging towards the nearest skyrail. "We need to save him!"

"Like he told me, it's not like he's going anywhere, we don't need to worry too much." Elizabeth paid no attention to Booker's comment and jumped onto the rail. DeWitt followed after her, his mind thick with thoughts.

"She's rather jumpy when it comes to Crenshaw. This goes beyond a professional concern, there's no doubt. Unfortunately for the girl, Alistair seems to have as many lies as I do. I may be paranoid, but I still don't fully trust him, there's something that doesn't sit right. I just hope he doesn't break her heart, she deserves better then anything a man of our grouping could offer." Booker thought to himself.

They arrived at the previous location, bodies still strewn on the ground. Booker was just glad there wasn't a handyman on their trip back. "Where is he?" Elizabeth immediately asked.

"Over there, there's a back room of jail cells." Booker said, pointing off in the direction. The girl began jogging before DeWitt could stop her. He quickly caught up to Elizabeth before she entered the room. The room was eerily quiet. DeWitt had expected Crenshaw to make a snide comment like he usually did, but there was nothing because he wasn't there.

"You said he was here?" Elizabeth's voice was a mixture of confusion and anger. The cell was full of unconscious men. The ones that were awake were groaning on the floor, holding their bodies in pain. He didn't see Alistair at all, the bounty hunter was gone.

"Shit." Booker put his hand on his head and looked around. "Shit shit shit. They took him."

"Who took him? Why would they take him? Where would they take him?" Her voice was fast, almost frantic.

"The guy in the black mask, I don't know what they'd want with him! All I know is that he was right here and now he's gone."

Elizabeth shook her head and walked out of the holding room. Booker watched as she left, then followed her out. He found her standing in the middle of the open area, back to him.

"Elizabeth?" DeWitt didn't get a response. He walked closer to her. She appeared to be crying, which immediately made him cautious seeing as last time he was hit by a wrench. He hated this sentimental stuff, it wasn't his strong suit. Booker put his hand on her shoulder and the girl spun around.

Tears ran down her face, it was real this time. "It's my fault, Mr DeWitt. It's my fault, they have Alistair." Her words were fast.

"What? No Elizabeth it..." DeWitt sighed, trying to process his words. "It isn't your fault. Crenshaw knew what he was doing." He put his hands on both her shoulders. Alistair may have hugged her, but that wasn't his method. "We'll find him. He's probably still in the area."

"But if I didn't run away he wouldn't have had to save me and..."

"Elizabeth. Stop. It doesn't matter who's fault it is, it's done and we have to deal with the given situation." Despite Booker's words, Elizabeth didn't seem anymore convinced. "You care for him don't you?"

Elizabeth looked up at DeWitt. "Of course I care for what happens to him! He's helped me even when you lied. Just because you don't like him doesn't mean I shouldn't!" She said this all between wiping away tears. She was angry, this topic had definitely struck a chord.

Unlike Elizabeth's voice, Booker's was calm. "No Elizabeth. I mean _care_ for him." He put extra emphasis on the word 'care'. He didn't feel like blatantly stating it. Elizabeth's reaction made it apparent that she knew exactly what he was getting at.

"What are you suggesting Mr. DeWitt? If I'm fond of him?" She stopped momentarily after saying the sentence. Her body language said it all. She was thinking, but Booker already knew, and he did not like the answer. He didn't need some foolish feelings screwing up their chance of escape.

"Forget I asked. We have to move on if we want to get our airship back."

"How is that going to happen?"

"We need to find a gunsmith. We are trading guns for the ship."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "Guns? For who?"

"The Vox Populi. Don't worry, we'll get the airship, find Alistair, and we'll be on our way." Booker said, hoping to move on.

"Fine, we'll do this. But just remember Mr DeWitt, we're working together just to get Alistair and for me to get out of here, this is not for you."

Booker nodded, he'd tell her what she wanted to hear. "Fine, let's just get going." They began to walk to the skyline. "This damn job..."

* * *

Sorry the Chapter is a little shorter then usual, but I hope you all enjoyed it. Pretty crazy to be on Chapter X already, still have plenty more


	11. Chapter XI

Chapter XI: Searching

"Finkton... This is the place. The gunsmith is in here." Booker and Elizabeth had been wandering through the skylines attempting to find the Fink headquarters. Booker had filled in Elizabeth on their way. They were looking for an Asian man named Chen Lin. He apparently had a shop on the Fink grounds, he specialized in making guns.

The Vox took over the First Lady after Crenshaw and Elizabeth escaped. Booker met Daisy Fitzroy, the head of the Vox. She had struck a deal with DeWitt, if he wanted his ship back he would have to help them. That's when he was informed of Chen Lin, now he just had to find him.

"This place is... Wow." The factory appeared humongous judging by just the front entrance. Booker pushed open the doors. This had been the only place in the city that Booker had not seen Columbian propaganda. The only posters were ones promoting Fink Industries, telling people how to be good workers and such. The walls and floors were paneled with fine wood.

Crenshaw's absence was strange for the two. It was still unknown where he was, and there were no leads. Alistair was the bridge between the two. Booker was not exactly interested in forging some kind of friendship. Friendship had gotten him into this situation, the drinking, the gambling. As far as he was concerned, they never helped in the long run.

The two went down the hall of the welcoming center only to find a crowd of people around a set of elevators. Police officers were attempting to gain some sort of command on the group. A Fink spokesman was at a podium, waving his hands to the people. "People, people calm yourselves! Jobs may not be available today, but that does not mean they will not be around in the future! Mr. Fink is a man of his word, he will provide the less fortunate with a honest, hardworking job!"

"I'm sure the people believe that." Booker dryly stated.

"If the gunsmith is supposed to be past there, how are we going to get through the crowd?" Elizabeth asked, arms crossed.

"We'll go around. That has to be another way." Booker looked around the room, using the crowd as concealment. He saw a door a little ways away with a lock on it. He motioned to Elizabeth and the two made their way over. He gave a hand movement towards the door, to which Elizabeth rolled her eyes. The girl bent down and fiddled around with a lock pick, eventually watching the door open. Booker pushed the door open and let Elizabeth through first before walking in and closing the door behind him.

It was strange for the two to be traveling in silence. Crenshaw usually did his best to reduce awkwardness, but he obviously wasn't there. Booker knew the two of them were thinking the same. Where the hell was Alistair? There was no real clue as to his whereabouts. He could have been taken anyone. He could have been killed and they never would have known.

They continued down a flight of stairs. "You said something about sneaking around?" Elizabeth asked. DeWitt peered over the handrail. On the lower lever was a grouping of Columbian soldiers with a Patriot. There was no way to sneak past to get to the elevators, impossible.

Booker sighed, this would be a little tougher without Crenshaw around. "There goes that plan. Shit, get ready for a fight." DeWitt readied a shock jockey in one hand, bucking bronco in the other. He had found a shipping crate opened before coming upon Alistair and Elizabeth, it was filled with Shock jockey, so he helped himself.

DeWitt stood up and unleashed the bronco, watching as several of the soldiers flew into the air, while others dove for cover. Before giving them a chance to react, he used shock jockey. The lighting bolt struck the patriot, and bounced around between the floating soldiers. Booker felt himself get weaker; he didn't have many salts left. He had a machine gun and carbine with him, and quickly opened up with the carbine. He concentrated on the weakened enemies in the air first because they were easy targets.

One by one, the soldiers went down in a burst of blood. DeWitt hit the ground as the patriot began opening fire. "Booker catch!" Elizabeth called out. DeWitt rolled over to see a bottle of salts flying at him. He caught it and quickly drank the bottle. Two men with batons charged up the stairs and made their way to DeWitt. Rolling over to his back, Booker unleashed his machine gun. He didn't release the trigger as the machine gun tore through the soldiers, they had no chance. Dark red patches oozed through their blue uniform as they both dropped to the ground.

The patriot had not moved, but it was continually laying down fire. "Mr. DeWitt!" Booker watched as Elizabeth waved her hand, seemingly opening up a tear. He didn't immediately realize the effects until he saw a chandelier hanging right above the patriot. "Shoot it!" Elizabeth called out.

"Good idea!" DeWitt got out of cover, carbine in hand. He fired two rounds into the chain holding up the chandelier. It quickly tumbled to the ground, knocking down the patriot in the process. Booker threw a Devil's Kiss at the downed patriot and watched as the chandelier exploded onto of the machine. The balls of magma soared in to all areas. The few remaining soldiers attempted to dive out of the path of fire.

DeWitt concentrated fire on the patriot first. He shot its back repeatedly, making sure to put it down. Still on the ground, it's head exploded as the bullets tore its inner workings apart. Booker ejected the magazine and quickly slammed in a new one. He equipped his machine gun and ran down the stairs, wanting to finish off the soldiers in closer combat.

There were only three left, the odds were in DeWitt's favor. One soldier attempted to flank him from a side room, but Booker immediately saw what he was doing. He ran towards the exit and readied himself. As the soldier proceeded to jump out, DeWitt struck out with his machine gun, catching the man along the face. With the soldier now on the ground, Booker opened fire, riddling the man's body with bullets. A pool of blood gradually spread all over the wooden floor.

The two others began to jump out of cover, but Booker was ready. He slowly advanced towards them, letting loose on the machine gun. Several bullets clipped his shield, but it held up. He got in close and grabbed his skyhook tightly with his left hand. He lurched out to the first man, slicing him across the throat. The blood shot out and he grabbed his throat before crumbling in a pile on the floor. The second man froze momentarily, seeing his friend die, Booker took the opportunity. He stuck the man's neck between the blades and cranked the skyhook. The soldier's neck snapped immediately and he fell lifeless to the floor.

All was silent except the Fink propaganda blaring over a loudspeaker. Booker sighed and looked around, the silence after battle… Crenshaw would say something obnoxious right now. Booker couldn't believe he was thinking what Alistair would be doing, it appears that annoying bounty hunter made this just a little bit easier for everyone.

Elizabeth walked down stairs and stood next to Booker. She didn't say anything, just waited for DeWitt's next move. Booker actually liked it better when she was chatty, now she… she was becoming more human. He led her to an adjoining room with several desks and an elevator. There were lockers that belonged to workers along a wall. Booker assumed the elevator would take them on the next part of their journey.

Booker hit the elevator button and backed up to wait. Elizabeth passed by and went to a wall of lockers. One was currently ajar, so she peered in. "Booker... It's Slate's locker. He must have worked here." She opened the door all the way and rummaged through the belongings. She picked up a book, appearing surprised by it. "What... This is my mother's diary. Why would Slate have it?"

Booker crossed his arms and leaned up against a wall. "A good question."

Elizabeth began to read the diary. "'My husband claims the child was created from cloth by divine will. I am a believer but not a fool. His... Bastard... Shall not be raised under this roof'. My mother... She's the one who had me locked in that tower!" She closed the book and looked at DeWitt.

"Elizabeth..."

"I just want to find Alistair and get out of this city. Please."

The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Booker looked between the girl and the elevator. "I'll try my best." He didn't want to make promises he wouldn't be able to keep for certain.

The two walked in and DeWitt hit the button once more. The elevator lurched up before slowly descending.

A speaker slowly cracked to life. "Greetings, this is Jeremiah Fink, and I want to share with you my personal creed. What is the most admirable creature on God's green earth? Why, it's the bee! Have you ever seen a bee on vacation? Have you ever seen a bee take a sick day? Well my friends, the answer is no! So I say be… the bee! Be the bee!"

As soon as the message ended, the elevator came to an abrupt stop. A phone on the wall of the elevator began to ring. Elizabeth and Booker exchanged confused looks. "Well… I guess I'll answer it." DeWitt thought to himself. He placed his thumb on the button and answered. "Uh… hello?" Elizabeth leaned toward the phone and placed her hair behind her ear.

"Mr. DeWitt?" A female voice asked.

"Um, yes?"

"Hold for Mr. Fink please." The response surprised DeWitt. Fink knew he was he here? How did he? Could he be responsible for the soldiers that took Alistair?

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked, obviously confused by the situation.

A male voice came on the phone, it was Fink, no mistake in that. Booker had gotten tired of hearing his voice in all the propaganda. "DeWitt? Fink here. Listen my boy… we've had our eye on you and I can tell you right now, you're our top candidate!" Booker and Elizabeth both raised eyebrows, lifting a hand in a 'What?' motion. "Top indeed! Now my associate, Mr. Flambeau will help you with anything you need." Fink began to chuckle. The phone call ended and the two looked to each other.

"What the hell was that?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have no idea."

"He seemed oddly pleased to make your acquaintance." Elizabeth's response had a hint of sarcasm as she made an exaggerated arm motion.

The elevator started up once again and proceeded downwards. The glass wall of the elevator revealed the bright July sky. Booker couldn't help but whistle as they saw a large gold statue of Fink. Elizabeth spoke up, "Well, the man's got an ego."

Booker scoffed, "You could say that again." As the elevator descending they saw the lifestyle of Fink employees. A large clock was centered in a room they could view. The clock was divided up into portions with words. A majority of the clock said 'work', taking up well more then half of it. The rest of the clock was divided into much smaller portions that said: sleep, hygiene, and food. Booker thought of what kind of lifestyle these people must lead. The two witnessed as men rushed down halls and were given in orders on the day.

The elevator slowly came to a stop, the doors opened. The two exited the elevator. A man was standing in front if two large wooden double doors. His arms were behind his back and he had a suit on. DeWitt and Elizabeth cautiously walked towards him. To the man's left was a table with various resources. Two large magnum revolvers with ammo, salts, heath kits, and plenty of money. "Like a kid in a candy store." Booker said.

The man, probably Mr. Flambeau spoke up. "Mr. DeWitt, Mr. Fink has left these items for your benefit, I hope you'll utilize them."

Booker didn't exactly trust the situation, he kept his eye on the man as he approached the table. He put the pistol from his shoulder holster and placed the revolver in it's place. He began to pocket the money when Elizabeth spoke up.

"What does Mr. Fink want with us?"

"With all due respect, Mr. Fink wants nothing with you, only Mr. DeWitt." Upon hearing this, the two swapped confused looks. "I'm sure Mr. Fink would like to explain himself."

DeWitt drank down the salts and placed the bottle back down. "There sure is a lot here." Booker said, talking about the large amount of items still on the table.

"That would be because you no longer have..." The man stopped himself abruptly. Booker stopped what he was doing and faced the man.

"We no longer what?" DeWitt slowly walked towards Flambeau. The man was sweating, his forehead glistening. Booker took out his revolver with his right hand. "Finish the sentence. No longer have what? Or who? A third person?" Flambeau swallowed loudly. DeWitt charged the man and pinned him to the wall with his left forearm.

"Tell me where he is Dammit or I'll blow your head clean off your shoulders." He pressed the barrel of the hand cannon to the man's head. Elizabeth was surprised by Booker's reaction, and rushed to his side.

"Booker what are you doing?!"

"This guy knows where Crenshaw is!" He pressed down harder onto the man's throat.

In between gasps of air, Flambeau attempted to respond. "I assure you, Mr. DeWitt, I have no idea who you are speaking of."

Elizabeth got closer to the pinned down Flambeau. "Please, sir, if you know where Mr. Crenshaw is, please tell us."

The man looked at Elizabeth from the corner of his eye. He spoke, gritting through his teeth. "There is nothing I will tell you."

"Then you're useless." DeWitt pulled back his revolver and smashed along Flambeau's head. The man crashed to the floor and didn't move, but DeWitt didn't care for his condition. He turned to Elizabeth. "He has to be here. We are going to find Chen Lin; maybe he'll know something. And from there we'll hope for the best."

"Booker." Elizabeth said. Booker turned to face the girl, she appeared to be tripping over her words. She eventually shook her head, telling him to ignore her. He nodded in response.

'We'll get him." With that, he opened up one of the large doors and walked outside. Music was playing over speakers softly. A man was standing on a stage hosting some sort of bidding war with a group of about fifteen. Soldiers were walking around slowly, not exactly giving one hundred percent with guard duty. They were talking to each other and not really paying attention their surroundings.

"Where do we start?" Elizabeth asked. There appeared to be several warehouses in the area. The walls didn't allow Booker to get an idea of how big this place may truly be.

"I guess we just walk around and go from there." Booker and Elizabeth walked down a set of stairs and began to examine the work area. The workers who were bidding were bidding on work. DeWitt found the scenario interesting. They were placing hours in exchange for work. Whoever could finish the job the quickest got it.

Most of the warehouse doors were locked, which made sense, but DeWitt still wanted to investigate. He felt as if Crenshaw could be in any of these buildings. Or he could have been completely long gone.

"Mr DeWitt?" Elizabeth started. DeWitt paid no attention initially, he was busy scanning the area. "Booker!"

The Pinkerton spun around to look at the girl. "What is it Elizabeth?" His voice was impatient and irritated, as if the conversion itself was wasting too much time.

"Slow down for a second, please."

"Slow down? You're the one who wanted to find Crenshaw quickly. We need to find Chen Lin as well! Im just trying to get us outta here," Elizabeth thought he was getting flustered, but he still showed little emotion.

"I know but rushing around won't help. You told me to calm down, and I think it's my turn to ask you to calm down."

Booker raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought of how he's been reacting. He needed to realize what was the goal here. "I am calm."

"You could've killed that man, Booker! You smashed his head with your gun! I think losing Alistair has affected you too but you're just afraid to admit it," Elizabeth's words weren't meant to taunt, rather to open his eyes.

DeWitt wasn't sure how to respond at first, he contemplated his words in his head. "He's a good ally."

Elizabeth crossed her arms and sighed. "Did you ever think he could be a good friend also?"

Booker couldn't believe they were having this conversation. Crenshaw hadn't even been gone for more then an hour, and they were talking as if he was gone for good. DeWitt gave a second to let the words sink in. A friend? DeWitt didn't have friends. He was in the long haul by himself, for himself. When he had worked for the Pinkertons he had co-workers, but he friends? He never considered it. Not people who would stick their neck out for him. DeWitt shook his head. "He may have my back in a fire fight, but he's not my friend. I don't need friends. I need people who can handle themselves.

Elizabeth released a let down breath and put her arms back to her side. She was hoping to get somewhere with that conversation, but obviously Booker wasn't willing to budge. She wanted to help Booker out, he was a suffering man similar to Alistair, and she felt she could do something about it. However, she'd never be able to do anything if he didn't open up.

"This must be the place." Booker said, changing the topic. They were standing in front of another building. A sign was hanging across the roof, stating 'Chen Lin Weaponry'. Their was an opening that led to a small room. DeWitt peered around, setting nothing out of the ordinary. There were tools strewn around the shop and on a large work bench. A set of double doors were closed at the other end.

"This must lead to the rest of the shop," DeWitt commented as he pushed one door open. The two walked in and looked around. It was... Eerily quiet. A furnace was burning at the opposite end of the room, with a staircase to their right. The duo made their way up the stairs slowly.

"Isn't this strange?" Elizabeth asked.

"What do you mean?"

"This is a gunsmith's working area, shouldn't it be... I don't know, louder?"

Booker looked back briefly. "I was actually thinking the same thing." They came upon a shrine of some sort. A gold statue was on top of a table, candles were lit around it.

"I've read about this…" Elizabeth started, pointing at the statue. "That's Gautama Buddha."

Booker stopped to stare the statue. "Who?"

"The founder of Buddhism. He spent forty-nine days under a Bodhi tree until he achieved enlightenment." The left the shrine and continued up the stares.

"Interesting. Something tells me, Comstock doesn't cater to idols being worshipped that ain't him." Booker replied. They got to the top floor, but it was empty as well. Work benches various objects strewn about, but no sign of Lin. "Hello? Chen Lin? Anyone here?"

"What happened here?"

"Someone worked this place over. Local constabulary no doubt." Booker sifted through the items, seeing if there was anything that would help locate Chen Lin. He stopped when he heard a noise coming from a lower level, sounded like someone crying.

"Do you hear that? There's someone downstairs." Elizabeth said. She didn't wait for Booker and headed straight down. Booker dropped what he was doing and chased after her down the stairs.

A woman was praying at the shrine they just passed. She was Asian, dressed in a modest gown. "Uh… excuse me?" Booker lifted a hand, trying to get the woman's attention. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but we're looking for Mr. Lin? Mr. Chen Lin?"

The woman responded in broken English, her accent was thick. "Mr. Lin, not here. He… gone." The woman, who Booker assumed to be Mrs. Lin, was speaking between tears. Elizabeth walked closer and put a hand on her back, trying to comfort her. "They take, flying squad. I pray to Buddha. Pray give husband back. Give back to May Lin."

"Where did they take him?" Elizabeth asked, holding Mrs. Lin's hand.

"Club. Everyone take to Good Time Club."

"Ma'am where is this club?" The woman ignored Booker's question and put her face in her hands, beginning to cry more. "Ma'am please, where is…"

"Booker we'll find it. Leave her be." Elizabeth said, cutting him off. Booker shrugged and headed down the stairs, behind them, Booker could hear Mrs. Lin speaking to herself.

"Why no Vox Populi help Chen Lin? Why not Daisy Fitzroy help Chen Lin?" That statement let DeWitt know exactly what kind of person Fitzroy was, she was no better then Comstock as far as he was concerned.

"What did she mean by flying squads?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Cops most likely. The kind that probably have their throat to Chen Lin's throat right now, asking him what he knows about Daisy Fitzroy." Booker knew how that game worked, all too well.

"Isn't she the one we're working for?" Elizabeth's voice held the slightest bit of concern.

"As a matter of fact, yes she is. Small world. Anyway, let's figure out where this Good Time Club is."

* * *

"Slate, answer my questions." The interrogator leaned over the table and snapped his fingers in front of Captain Slate. "Why were you snooping around our grounds? Why were you by yourself?" The Captain had been in a daze, the group had worked him over pretty well. Slate's shirt was stained with blood, and a few of his teeth were missing. The interrogator stood up. "I heard great stories of you Slate. I was told you were supposed to be some kind of great warrior! Right now I'm looking at an old man who probably pisses himself!"

The interrogator bent down to be eye level with Slate. He had heard about how the Hall of Heroes had been defaced. "You're no tin man are you?"

Slate's eyes grew wide and he slammed his hands on the table. "Tin man! Tin man!" The interrogator laughed at Slate's reaction, most of the men knew by know how that set him off. He punched Slate across the face and kicked his chair over. He grabbed the Captain by his shirt and tightened his grip.

"Ok tin man! Answer me! How are the Vox getting their hands on Mr. Fink's workers!?"

The Captain gave the interrogator a blank stare. He only whispered now. "Tin man…" The interrogator slammed him back to the ground and stood off. He rolled down his sleeves and buttoned up the cuffs before. "Such an old fool." He scoffed.

He turned his attention to the hallway as he heard the sound of boots. He stood in the doorway and crossed his arms. Two soldiers were dragging a man under his arms, The Mask was trailing behind. "Sir, new blood?" The interrogator asked.

The mask turned to him, "You could say that, yes. Wrap up your session with Slate, this one is our new priority."

"Yes, sir." The interrogator walked back into the room and stood above the Captain. "You hear that Slate? We got new meat, that mean's I can't concentrate on you anymore. I know you're heart broken, but I am very wanted. Don't worry though, I'll be back.

The interrogator cracked his knuckles and slammed the door to Slate's cell and walked down the hall. The Mask was standing outside the door, arms crossed. "Keep him restrained, he's much more skilled then our usual guest." The Mask said. The interrogator peered over his superior's shoulder to view the prisoner. It was a white male. His dress shirt and vest were covered in blood. His head was hung low and he was making very little movement. The two soldiers began to undo his handcuffs so they could shackle him to the ceiling.

The interrogator was surprised to see the man move as fast as he did. He lashed out with an elbow to the first guard's face and got behind the second. He snapped the soldier's neck and the body dropped lifelessly. The interrogator had his baton in hand and was prepared to assault the prisoner, but the Mask had reacted first. The Mask extended his hand and shot a bolt of lightning out. The electricity made contact with the man and he immediately dropped to his knees, holding his chest. The interrogator backhanded the man with his baton for good measure.

"Get up you fool and help me restrain him."

"H-he killed Schmitty," the soldier stammered as he rushed to restrain the prisoner.

"If the two of listened to me we wouldn't have that problem." The Mask calmly responded. The soldier and interrogator put the shackles around the prisoner's wrists and pulled the chains, forcing him to stand up. The interrogator backed off as the Mask approached the prisoner.

"The electricity bothers you doesn't it?" The Mask calmly asked. The man was still gasping for air, not able to respond. "No smart ass quip? Expected more from you." The mask removed a glove and held his hand out. His hand grew red with fire, steam emitted from his pores. He ripped open the prisoner's shirt and placed his hand on his chest.

The prisoner began grunting in pain, obviously holding back a scream. A sizzling noise filled the room as the man's skin boiled. The interrogator could smell the burning flesh. The Mask backed away and put his glove back on. The interrogator was always impressed by the amount of Vigors his superior could wield, many people went mad after one or two, or the pain became unbearable.

"We'll leave you alone. You know what Mr Fink wants. Im going to let him know we have the prisoner. Remember, work fast." The Mask motioned to the remaining soldier and the two left.

The interrogator was left alone in the room with the prisoner. He didn't know what made this one important, but Mr Fink wanted very specific information and this man would be the source of it. "So, you're supposedly a feisty one? I don't believe it, you look weak." The interrogator said.

The prisoner was still gasping, he lifted his head. "Please, I can't breath."

The interrogator laughed. "Weakling, that's the point of hanging you up there. Stretches out the diaphragm, can't catch your breath." He got closer, right into the man's face. "I can already tell you won't last. You think you're hot shit, but that little episode you had before was a fluke. They're not trained like I am."

The interrogator reeled back in pain as the prisoner head butted him. Blood ran down his nose, it was broken. The prisoner began to laugh heartily. "Oh yea? Well looks like you weren't trained either! I'll be lasting longer then you tough guy!" The prisoner was filled with a spirit the interrogator didn't previously see. The weakness was an act.

The interrogator felt himself get warm with anger. His grip tightened on his baton as he bludgeoned the prisoner across the ribs. The man coughed and then laughed. "Is that all you got?" How dare this scum criticize him! The interrogator delivered a solid punch to the man's gut, then stomach. The prisoner spit in his face and smiled. "Please, when my father beat me he hit harder."

The interrogator didn't understand, how could this man treat his blows like taps? He would break him within the hour, he swore it. He turned his back to the prisoner and walked out the room, he would get his tools. "Where you going cupcake? Is someone flustered?" The prisoner called out.

The interrogator marched down the hall to the name board. Who was this man? He didn't care, he would have him crying like a child. Mr Fink wanted answers, and he would get them. The interrogator went through the cell numbers, scanning the names. Finally, he came to the correct cell number. Someone had hastily written down a name in the spot. "Alistair Crenshaw,"

* * *

Wanted to say I hit 2250 views a couple days ago and I'd like to thank everyone who has read this little story of mine. Comments would be really appreciated as always just so I know what you all are thinking about the direction, thoughts, criticisms, anything.

I also apologize for the gap between chapters, I'll try and get another one out quicker


	12. Chapter XII

Chapter XII: Decisions

"Shit! Handyman!" As soon as Booker and Elizabeth had left the shop they were attacked by the mechanical monstrosity simply known as a handyman. It was part human, part machine. It stood several foot above Booker, with an arm span even larger. The only human part that seemed to remain was the head and the heart, which was visible through a glass porthole in the chest. It could jump from great distances, and Booker was already aware of how hard it could hit.

"Be careful!" Elizabeth replied, running to find something to help out Booker with. The handyman crashed directly in front of DeWitt, kicking up dust and shouting in his face.

"You're not welcome here!"

Booker immediately shot a Devil's Kiss out of his hand. The behemoth engulfed in flames when the ball of magma struck. The handyman began shouting again, but the fire didn't seem to stop it. It shook its body once and began to charge Booker. DeWitt had realized how quick it really was despite its size. The handyman rammed in with its shoulder and sent him soaring

DeWitt landed flat on his back, exhaling heavily upon impact. He raised his handcannon and tried to steady his aim. The handyman shook its arm, attempting to realign it. DeWitt took this opportunity to riddle the machine with bullets, he attempted to deliver several well placed shots to its exposed heart. The handyman grabbed its chest as the magnum bullets tore through its chest. The glass was cracked, and the handyman was obviously in pain.

"Booker, keep it up! That worked!" Elizabeth shouted as she tossed a jar of salts. DeWitt got up and caught the bottle, downing the contents immediately.

"What the hell is going on here?" A police officer rounded the corner, surprised to see a handyman. Booker reacted quickly and shot a Possession at the unsuspecting officer. The green aura covered the man, who withdrew his sidearm and began firing at the handyman. The small bullets seemed to do little, but DeWitt needed the distraction. The handyman trotted over to police officer, who seemed so miniscule in comparison.

Booker noticed a skyline line above the fight and jumped to use it. At this time, the handyman had picked up the officer and was crushing him with both hands. DeWitt ignored the blood curdling screams of the man as he guided himself along the rail. He jumped off to get on top of a roof. He repositioned himself to get a good vantage point with his carbine. He delivered two rounds into the handyman's head, causing it to drop the crushed policeman.

DeWitt now had a fully exposed chest to work with. He breathed deeply and rapidly pulled the trigger, the rounds smacked into the handyman's heart, causing it to reel back in pain.

"Stop that!" The handyman bellowed. In one leap it was now on the roof with DeWitt. It began to run towards the Pinkerton once again, but he was ready. He rolled out of the path at the last second, readying himself to finish off the mechanical beast.

"Mr. DeWitt!" Elizabeth called out from bellow. She threw a shotgun onto the roof, the perfect close range weapon. DeWitt dove for the weapon and aimed it to the handyman. The handyman jumped up high in the air, it was going to bring its fists down upon him. Booker fired two shells directly at the heart, one causing the glass to shatter, and the other tearing the muscle to shreds.

Booker saw the life erase from the handyman's eyes just as he dropped the shotgun and rolled of the roof. The body crashed to the ground, sparks emitting from its body. "Move move move!" Booker shouted. He pulled Elizabeth's arm and the two ran away as the body of the handyman exploded, engulfing the area in a electrical field.

"Well I don't much care for you Mr. DeWitt, but I must admit you do know how to handle yourself in a brawl," Elizabeth said. DeWitt dusted himself off and motioned for the two to get going

They found the Good Time Club quickly, it wasn't far from the from Chen Lin's shop. It had a large entrance, yet it appeared fairly quiet in the immediate area. "There it is Mr. DeWitt."

"Well now we just have to find Chen Lin and Alistair… and just call me Booker," DeWitt muttered as he opened the doors, holding them for Elizabeth.

As soon as he entered the club, DeWitt was greeted by the familiar smell of blood in the air. He looked up into the room, a corpse was hanging by a large clock mounted on the wall. "That's inviting," He thought to himself.

"Welcome to the Good Time Club, sir or madam!" A robot began to speak at the opposite end of the room. "The show is about to begin!"

Then, as if on cue, Fink's voice boomed overhead. "Ah, DeWitt my boy! You know, the best kind of interview is the one where the applicant doesn't know he's being evaluated! But- I've watched you since the other day at the lottery, and I've had some…heh… reliable resources. You're a brute! And in times like this, I could use a brute!"

DeWitt was tired of hearing this continuing nonsense. "What do you want Fink?"

"Why- labor unrest is coming DeWitt, heh heh. Now… Fitzroy has got the jungle all riled up. A man like me could use an old Pinkerton like you." He never understood how everyone knew about his past, he had been so good at concealing it and now it was like he was an open book. He shook off the idea and walked up the stairs.

There was a door to what Booker assumed to lead to the rest of the club. He gave a swift kick to it and walked in. "Let's find Chen Lin and get the hell out of here." The club was large. They were on a second floor balcony, with a bar immediately to their right. On the lower floor, chairs and booths were set up around a stage and catwalk. A large box sat at the end of the catwalk.

"Now now, all I ask is that you finish what you started DeWitt!" Fink added in. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the other applicants! Our first applicant is a veteran of Peking… Now what's that they say about old soldiers? Ha ha ha… frankly my money's on you!" Booker grew angrier, Fink was treating this as a joke. "He's something of an old hand at handling explosives. Only man I know who hasn't lost a limb working with them…yet."

The loudspeaker died out as the curtain at the stage rose and several men rushed out, immediately firing weapons. Booker ducked for cover behind the banister of the second floor and slowly worked his way around. He rushed to get behind a wooden bar table for cover. Two men immediately ran up a set of stairs to close in on DeWitt.

"Catch!" Elizabeth shouted. Booker extended his arm to catch an incoming machine gun and turned it on his enemies. He shot out a bolt of Shock Jockey, electrocuting the two men. While they were shaking pain, DeWitt unloaded his weapon on them. They dropped to the ground after the bullets tore through their bodies. One of the men was twitching on the ground, blood leaking from his wounds. DeWitt fired a round into his head and moved on.

A tear was visible on the wall, a fire place with a weapon mounted on it. Booker pointed to it and shouted to get Elizabeth's attention. "You got it!" With a wave of her hand, the fireplace appeared in front of him, and Booker realized it was a rocket launcher mounted. He pulled it off the wall and ran to the balcony to see who was still on the ground.

A fireman and man were standing on the catwalk, prepare to fire from below. DeWitt pulled the rocket launcher onto his shoulder and fired a shot directly between the two. The man was immediately torn to shreds, his limbs soaring in different directions as the rocket made contact. The fireman man was shoved into the air, his back slamming against a wall from the force of the explosion.

"Burn in hell!" The fireman shouted. Booker prepared another shot, but had his attention brought to what was going on behind him.

"Booker, look out!" Elizabeth shouted. DeWitt spun around and ducked as a man with a club lashed out at him. The Pinkerton dropped the rocket launcher to the floor and did an uppercut with his skyhook, driving the blade through the man's chin. The man helplessly flailed his arms as DeWitt revved the blade, perforating the man's head. Blood spewed in all directions, and he pulled the blade out.

Booker felt a searing heat as an explosion went off two feet away from him. He was forced to the ground, a flame ignited on his sleeve. "Sonova bitch!" He yelled, frantically putting out the fire. The man in the fireman suit jumped from the first to the second floor, landing right in front of Booker. Still on his back, DeWitt took out his handcannon and fired a round into the man's chest.

The bullet must have cause a lot of damage because of the fireman grabbed his chest and stopped walking. DeWitt fired another round center mass, kicking the man off balance. He placed a final round into the fireman's head, the mask breaking off into metal shards. He fell backwards over the banister to the ground, the entire club slowly went silent, the echo of the revolver still lingering in the air.

"Good show out there DeWitt! That was some quality work! Our next applicant is a young go-getter and former devotee of Lay-dee Comstock. But, without the old gal, they don't quite know what to do with themselves. Picked this one up at a hiring fair, for a song!"

"Crows!" Elizabeth called out. Three men appeared out of thin air, swords in their hands. A swarm of crowd surrounded them, covering the first floor in blackness.

"I see them!" Booker shouted back, immediately shooting a Shock Jockey towards the nearest enemy. "Elizabeth, tear!" He pointed towards a turret placed on the ground level. As soon as the machine open fired, two of the men transformed into a swarm of crows, dodging the bullets. However, the electrocuted man wasn't as lucky, the bullets began to shred through him.

The single enemy shouted in pain before transforming, the crows swarmed to the second floor, appearing in front of Booker. The man launched at DeWitt, but he fired his handcannon first. Blood came out of the man's chest in an explosive burst, he dropped to the floor lifelessly.

"Shit!" Booker exclaimed. The two remaining men appeared on each side of him. He tried his best to avoid the swing of their blades as they tried to get the better on him. A single strike hit him, smashing his shield. He was consistently driven backwards, not having time to put up his weapon before dodging. He winced as a blade caught his forearm, opening up a wound.

To his surprise, a vase soared across the room, smashing one of the men in the head. Must have been Elizabeth's impeccable aim. Booker got two shots off before equipping his skyhook for the close combat. He shot a Devil's Kiss to the stunned crow, which shouted as he burst into flames. DeWitt hooked in the other man with his weapon, catching him by the arm with the blade.

To Booker's surprise, the crow pulled him over the balcony, breaking the bannister. They both tumbled from the second story. Before the man could turn into a swarm, Booker revved the blade, slicing his enemy's arm off immediately. The two men landed on the ground, flat on their backs. The crow was rolling on the ground, holding his stump of an arm.

Booker went to fire his handcannon, an empty click was the response. He shoved it in the holster and stood up, carbine in hand. He unloaded three rounds into the chest of the man, his body shaking with each bullet. A pool of blood slowly formed around him.

"Die!" The third man appeared on the ground floor. Booker responded with a bunking bronco, sending the man into the air. "No! No! No!" The crow pleaded for his life as DeWitt unloaded the remaining clip into the man. His body dropped to the ground with a thud. Booker ejected the clip and drove in a new one, looking around for new enemies.

"Comstock's dog was right about you DeWitt! A real fighter! He has been the closest person to you since you've arrived, it only makes sense he would be right!"

Booker momentarily lowered his handcannon, processing what was just said. "What the hell do you mean Comstock's dog?"

Fink was beating around the bush. "You see, my boy, I knew Comstock had hired an outsider to do his work, so I figured 'why not!' That's why I need you DeWitt! Comstock has his man and I need mine. And to think you've been working alongside him the whole time!" Fink began to chuckle over the speaker.

"There's no way!" Booker shouted back. "He's not working for Comstock!" DeWitt became angry, not sure to trust this knowledge or not.

"Of course he is, my boy! Didn't you find it strange that he just showed up willing to help you? He was feeding information along your route!"

Despite his name not being uttered, Elizabeth knew they were talking about Alistair. "No... There's no... He couldn't be." She was at a loss of words. She refused to believe Alistair was working for the man who locked her up in that tower. She touched Booker's arm, trying to calm him. "Please don't believe him."

DeWitt was grinding his teeth, it would all make sense if that were true. "That Sonova bitch, I should have known."

A loud crash was heard throughout the club. "I'm trying to protect you DeWitt! This is for your benefit as much as mine. It will be a prosperous business relationship!" Fink's voice was almost completely drowned out by the noise in the room.

Booker looked around, trying to find source of the noise. Then their situation went from bad to worse. The box on the stage exploded as a handyman launched from his position towards DeWitt. Two more handymen entered the room from separate locations, surrounding the duo. Men with guns were backing up the mechanical monstrosities, their guns locked on.

"I don't want to have to hurt you my boy, or the girl for that matter."

"Elizabeth please tell me you see something we can use." DeWitt said between grinded teeth. They were completely surrounded. There was no way around it.

"They're nothing I can use... There aren't anymore tears," the girl looked frantically around, trying to find anything that could assist them.

"Shit, think DeWitt think." Booker muttered to himself. Where did Fink get three damned handymen? It was outrageous. He may have tried to fight his way out, but this was the first time Elizabeth had been threatened as well. It was clear Fink had another agenda. He didn't care for Comstock, that much was apparent.

"So DeWitt are you going to accept your knew position as Head of Security at Fink Industries? I tell you my boy, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, I wouldn't pass it up!" Booker's blood began to boil as Fink's voice filled the club. He had allowed himself to be beat, he hadn't come this far to be beat. "Remember DeWitt, keeping the girl alive is a sign of my goodwill! She will not be harmed, you have my word as a business man!"

"Booker... You don't..." Elizabeth started speaking, but DeWitt cut her off.

"Fine Fink! You win! Just don't harm the girl, this doesn't involve her," Booker shot a look at Elizabeth before turning his head back. He backed up towards her slowly, putting his handcannon away.

"Booker you can't!" Elizabeth protested.

"I'll do a damn job for him and then we're breaking out. Don't do anything while I'm gone, don't fight, just hide at Chen Lin's. I'll find you." Booker whispered to the girl, his voice was confident and reassured Elizabeth.

It was silent, despite the fact DeWitt had agreed, it was still like a stand off. A slow clap filled the room as a man began to walk down the set of stairs. He wore a nice suit, and he was wearing a black mask that covered his entire head. DeWitt extended his hand, pointing at the man. "You! You're the Sonova bitch who attacked us!" Booker began walking towards the man but a handyman blocked his path.

The masked man stopped clapping and came closer. "You were on Mr Fink's property, unwanted I might add. I was doing my job."

"Bastard, you threw Crenshaw in a jail cell and took him somewhere, where is he?!"

"Keep pointing that finger at me and I'll break it off. Calm yourself Mr. DeWitt, this is a happy occasion. And as for your friend, I have no idea what you're talking about. We left him in the cell and he escaped. Ever think that he didn't want to stick around?" DeWitt didn't believe a word uttered out of the man's mouth, he was full of it.

Fink's voice projected throughout the room once more. "That's right DeWitt! This is fantastic! You should listen to Mr. Crow!"

Booker raised an eyebrow and turned to the Mask. "Mr. Crow? What the hell kind of name is that?" Booker inquired, sarcasm leaking out of his mouth ..

"It's my name Smart guy. Deal with it. And you will refer to me by Mr because I'm your superior."

"And what the hell is it you do?"

Fink answered DeWitt's question. "Mr. Crow is my personal bodyguard and my most trusted assistant," That information actually worked in Booker's favor. If this Crow guy was the bodyguard, Fink must be somewhere close, a different level of the building perhaps.

"Thank you for the introductions Mr Fink. Now boys, would you please take the girl to her new quarters?" Mr Crow motioned to several of Fink's men who had weapons on the duo. They stopped pointing their guns and two grabbed Elizabeth by her arms.

"Hey, we had a deal! You wouldn't hurt her!" Booker protested, readying a vigor to attack the men.

"Calm yourself, they are just going to hold onto her until you get back. No harm will come to the beautiful girl." Mr. Crow lightly placed a gloved hand onto Elizabeth's face, who immediately shook it off. The masked man laughed at her reaction and waved off his subordinates. The men escorted Elizabeth behind the stage and out of Booker's sights. He continually cursed to himself, he had been so stupid.

"Now DeWitt, if you follow me, Mr Fink would like to personally congratulate you." Crow was acting gentlemen like, similar to Flambeau, but he was now weakling. He could command Vigors, and he was a force to be reckoned with while using them. If DeWitt was to try and free Elizabeth, it wouldn't be easy. It also didn't help that he couldn't deduce anything about the man in front of him. His build was muscular, athletic. Crow was slightly shorter then him. He knew he was white only because the skin could be seen in the small gap between the helmet and collar. Wasn't much to work with.

"How does it feel to be Fink's personal bitch?" Booker asked, still disgusted my his situation.

Crow turned around. Booker hated not seeing his face. "How does it feel to be a drunken, washed up Pinkerton, not wanted wherever he goes? Huh, bitch?" DeWitt was surprised, how had he known that? Did everyone in Columbia know everything about him? When Booker didn't respond, Crow chuckled. "That's what I thought,"

* * *

"Get your hands off of me! I can walk by myself!" Elizabeth protested as Fink's men continued to forcibly escort her through the halls. The men paid no attention to Elizabeth's words, keeping there grip tight on her.

They began descending deeper into the building. The walls were no longer covered in wood, but stone. Elizabeth made a sound of disgust as they entered a halfway with large metal doors, the smell was pungent. She didn't even know how to describe the stench, it was the first time she experienced something so disgusting.

"We have a great room for you, beautiful." Sneered one of the men.

"Actually, put her with one of the other saps. Like the new guy, if he's even still alive." Laughed the other one. Elizabeth couldn't believe this, they had been so close to escaping hours ago, now everything had gone to Hell. She attempted to rip open a tear, she needed to get free. She tried to resist the men, she threw out and elbow and began wildly kicking around her legs. She caught one of the men off guard and got him right between the legs.

He obviously was in pain and responded in anger. "Bitch!" He back handed Elizabeth across the face, putting her in a daze. She had never been hit before, and that man used full force. They unlocked a door and tossed her in roughly. The door slammed behind her, locked.

She held her face, sitting in the straw that layered the cold, unforgiving floor. It was dark, her eyes had yet to adjust to the unlit room. She fought the urge to cry, but several tears ran down her face. She wasn't prepared for any of this, but she had to be strong. She sniffed and tried to wipe away the tears.

"Don't cry, sweetheart." A voice came from the darkness. She looked up, scared, unaware of the other person. Elizabeth stood up and backed into the corner of the room. Her vision had slowly adjusted, she now saw a standing figure at the rear of the room. She noticed the figure wasn't standing on their own. They their hands chained to the ceiling. It was pulled taut and they were leaning forward .

Elizabeth walked forward cautiously. She gasped when she saw the condition the person, a man, was in. Open cuts had blood pouring down his shirtless body. His body was well toned, the blood ran down his abs, following the lines of his body. There were bruises and burns that were very visible. The chains around his wrists were dug in deep, caking the metal in blood.

As she got closer, the man lifted his head, and Elizabeth gasped and covered her mouth. " You look surprised to see me, Elizabeth." Despite being bloody and broken, Alistair Crenshaw still managed a smile.

"Alistair, oh God what did they do to you?" Elizabeth rushed to his side, her hand on his skin. "I could help you, you're wounds haven't been tended to, you..."

"Liz, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, it's ok." Alistair began, trying to calm her down.

"Ok!? Have you not seen yourself? You're badly injured and it's not ok."

"As a matter of fact, I haven't seen myself seeing as I've been locked away. And there's no use getting worked up about..." Crenshaw stopped, he began to cough uncontrollably. He grunted in pain, looking down to his chest. "That's never fun..." He tried to readjust himself, but the chains didn't allow too much.

Elizabeth put her hand over Alistair's heart, it was beating rapidly, pounding in his chest. "Alistair... I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

"Sweetheart what are you..." He winced once more. " talking about?"

"If it wasn't for me you..."

"Stop, I know exactly what you're getting at, and you're wrong. I made a decision. I do not regret it one bit. Protecting you is worth it. Elizabeth, you deserve better, and I'm going to get you out of here dammit."

"No! Let me finish! I am the reason you're in here and I want to help you get out, so we can all leave here!" That was the most up front she had been with Alistair, and he was surprised, she could see it. He gave a weak smile.

"Ok, well you obviously have your mind set, so there is no point arguing. Where the hell is DeWitt?"

"He's up in the club still,"

"The club?" Alistair asked, obviously unaware of where he was.

"We are below The Good Time Club, it is a part of Fink's land. Booker is still up there because they offered him a job as head of security or something. They took me to 'keep me safe'." Elizabeth could tell Alistair was deeply in thought, processing what she told him.

"Well a lot of that makes sense now..." He began. Elizabeth tilted her head, questioning. "Well I figured this was Fink's land by conversations guards were having. And now it makes sense why they were asking me about DeWitt."

"They were asking you about Booker?"

"Yea, why do you think I'm bleeding all over the place? They wanted to know who he was, what he was capable of."

Elizabeth gasped, "they.. tortured you just to tell them about him?" Alistair nodded in the affirmative. "Did you tell them anything?" He shook his head in the negative.

She put her hand on Alistair's face, slowly tracing her finger along his facial scar. "Why not Alistair? You could've saved yourself so much suffering. It would've been OK, we would've understood."

Alistair turned his face into her hand, the familiarity made him feel good despite the given situation. He kissed her hand, "Sometimes it isn't about taking the easy way out, Elizabeth. Would Booker have done the same for me? Maybe not, but that doesn't matter. I wasn't going to make their jobs easier. The only thing I told them that they better get ready for a helluva fight."

Elizabeth couldn't believe it, but at the same time she felt she shouldn't be surprised. Alistair was such a tough, well meaning man, he was the kind of person who wouldn't think twice about a situation similar to this. Elizabeth looked at her hands, some of Alistair's blood had smeared onto her.

"I need to patch you up somehow." Elizabeth voiced her concern.

Alistair simply chuckled in response. "Normally I'd agree, but I'll probably be bleeding soon enough anyway once they come back, even though they already have DeWitt."

"Regardless, I'm going to bandage you up," Elizabeth crouched down and tore off a small section of her long skirt and began wrapping one of the bounty hunter's arms. "Alistair..." Elizabeth began. Crenshaw turned and she immediately regretted opening her mouth. "How did you get all of these scars?"

"Are you one of those women who find scars attractive?" Alistair smiled. Elizabeth felt her face grow warm and tried not to look at him as she bandaged his arm. Alistair began to laugh his hearty laugh, despite the pain in his chest. "I'm joking, Elizabeth. I do suppose it could be strange how many scars I have. I've been in many fights sweetheart, but that's no surprise. Ive been shot, stabbed, and blown to pieces with explosives. I'm lucky to be alive really."

"You say that so nonchalant, like it's no a big deal." Elizabeth replied, tightening the bandage.

"Because it's not that big of a deal. I've been bred for combat now, even thought it was never my intention. I'll keep fighting until I don't need to, or I'm dead. Whichever comes first."

"Don't say that."

"Say what?" Alistair looked at the girl, waiting for their gazes to meet.

"That you'll fight until you die." Her face was stern, but Alistair saw the topic wasn't a favored one.

"It's a harsh truth Elizabeth."

"You deserve better, you're a good man." Elizabeth placed her hand on his face gently. She could tell the words hit him. He must have been contemplating a response. He released a heavy sigh and kissed her hand.

"I'm not the good man you make me out to be, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth let her hand drop to her side. "Oh my God... Was he telling the truth?"

Alistair looked confused. "Was who telling the truth?"

"Fink. He... He said you've been working with Comstock..." Crenshaw didn't immediately respond. "Tell me the truth Alistair, that is the least you owe me!"

"I'm not working for Comstock." He said calmly, but Elizabeth didn't outright believe him. She took a step back. Alistair sighed and tried to soften his voice. "Trust me Elizabeth. He picked me up when I was sneaking around. His men got the jump on me. He wanted DeWitt dead, he gave me a file and promised me money. I had my own plans, I never actually helped him. Please believe me."

"I... I do. But Booker may be harder to convince.I just don't understand why you wouldn't say anything."

"I just met the two of you, I doubt you'd trust someone saying that." Elizabeth noticed that Alistair was looking down, as if he didn't want to make eye contact. The two were in silence, neither saying a thing.

"What are you really doing here Mr Crenshaw? And don't say to help Booker. He's been suspicious about you since you've joined and I'm the only reason you stayed around." Elizabeth was never stern with him, this had been the first time.

There was another gap of silence. "I'd rather not say, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth scoffed and crossed her arms. "You said you wanted to protect me. I want to trust you but you have to admit, you've never told me anything. I barely know anything about you!"

"There's a reason I never talk about myself Elizabeth. People who get close to me or know a lot tend to get hurt. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, you must understand that. I'm not a good man, I'll admit it. That's why, I don't mean to shut you out, but it's for your own good."

Elizabeth walked around the small cell, going around Alistair's back. He had blood sneered across there as well, she cringed slightly at the sight of some horrific scars. She stood in front of him and placed her hand on his neck. "It's OK to let people in, to trust people. To let people get close..." She looked him in the eyes. His brown eyes stared back, she could see the inner turmoil he was going through. She tried to brush his face but Alistair disregarded her.

"I'd love to, Elizabeth. You don't know much this pains me. Trust me please it's for your own good..."

The girl brought back her hand and walked away. She sat down in the corner of the cell quietly. She didn't look up at Alistair, just stared blankly.

Crenshaw wanted to say something, but he knew he couldn't. He knew what had to be done, and if this was the way, so be it.

* * *

Sorry for the gap, but I hope you enjoyed the story regardless


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